


Cigarettes

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: Chocolate and Cigarettes [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Crush, Exploring Sexuality, First Times, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Ian and Mickey are sort've friends, Internalized Homophobia, Islamaphobic slurs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mickey's POV, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Season 1, Teen Ian, Teen Ian Gallagher/Teen Mickey Milkovich, Teen Mickey, The M rating is more for references of sex/drugs/swearing/language, deep dive into Mickey pre-canon, descriptions of masterbation, mentions of Terry's abuse, realizations of sexuality, references to Mickey having sex with women, the famous 1x07 scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: Mickey was right.Gallagher would definitely see through him if he let him get much closer.Mickey discovers his sexuality after he loses his virginity. A deep dive into Mickey before we meet him in 1x03 and how he starts his relationship with Ian. Pre canon to 1x07. All Mickey's POV.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Chocolate and Cigarettes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954726
Comments: 59
Kudos: 159





	1. Hot Water

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! If they did, we’d have a whole show of Gallavich scenes.
> 
> Hello! I know it's been awhile (almost two months lol), but I was having trouble figuring out what exactly to write. I really wanted to write a 100k fic, but no idea sounded that appealing. 
> 
> And then I saw a GallavichFanficLibrary ask (seriously go check them out if you need a new fic to read) about someone wondering about Mickey figuring out he's gay before Ian and I really wanted to explore that, so this fic was born.
> 
> It's a bit different than my other fics. First this is all from Mickey's POV and Part Two will be all from Ian's POV. It's mostly a deep dive into pre-canon and up to 1X07 and a little beyond. I'm rewatching the series now to get a good feel for season 1 Mickey. I just really wanted to explore Mickey at this moment in time and how he viewed the world, so I hope I did him justice.
> 
> I am not a gay man, so if there's anything I get wrong, please let me know! Also, there are mentions of underage sex and of Mickey having sex with women. But nothing super explicit. I'll let you guys know if that changes, but as for now in this fic, I don't plan on it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

_“I wanted to tell you all my secrets, but you became one of them instead.”_

_~Unknown_

* * *

Mickey Milkovich really wanted a shower, but per usual in his household there was no hot water.

And he really hated taking cold showers.

Especially in the dead of winter.

He tried to remind himself that he should be grateful they had water at all. Someone had remembered to pay the water bill - probably Colin - but it was hard to get up the energy to feel thankful when he was feeling the way he was.

Dirty.

Used.

 _Empty_.

Like tiny bugs were crawling all over his skin.

Didn’t matter much anyway. The abandoned building he’d come to after climbing out of that bed was far enough away from his house that the thought of the trek home made him huddle further into his stolen down coat.

Staring out across the quiet, dark city of Chicago, he wondered if there was someone else out there who had just lost their V-card and was having second thoughts about it. Taking out a cigarette, he popped it into his mouth and opened his last can of beer he’d swiped from the party.

He blamed his brothers for getting him into this situation. But he knew they weren’t entirely at fault. 

They hadn’t _forced_ him to have sex. 

He’d _wanted_ to do it at the time. 

Thought he was supposed to. 

Thought it would make him a man or whatever the fuck Colin was going on about.

He didn’t feel any of those things.

In fact, all he felt was more confused than before. 

And he had more questions too.

Was it supposed to take that long to get hard?

Was he supposed to feel kinda slimy afterwards?

Was he supposed to want to leave immediately after instead of cuddle or whatever?

What about her? 

Was she into it?

Did he even care?

He wasn’t even going to think about the way she looked at him afterwards - a little drunk, very confused, and slightly disgusted. 

Like there was something wrong with him.

Flicking the stolen Zippo from Iggy, he lit the cigarette and sat back against the cold wall of the abandoned building he was (possibly, currently hiding) in. He looked out the holes where windows used to be into the cloudy grey Chicago sky as he began to analyze the situation he’d gotten himself into.

Iggy had lost his virginity at 13 and Colin at 12. Mandy had already lost it for fuck’s sake and she was younger than him. 

He was the odd man out.

He was _always_ the odd man out.

At least when it came to the sex stuff.

Give him a gun to shoot or an ounce to sell and he could best all of his brothers and cousins combined, but when it came to the sex stuff...he was useless.

His siblings and cousins were always talking about fucking this bitch and that slut, but the things was - _he had no desire to fuck any of them_.

He’d learned at about 11 that, that was fucking weird.

Once they’d been hanging out under the L and Colin started talking about how he’d fucked some chick at school over the weekend. He started talking about her tits and Mickey remembered Jamie and Joey had asked for all these details about them. He’d made a disgusted face that Colin caught and he’d asked him if he was grossed out. 

Mickey - not thinking - had said he was. 

And then he remembered those blank looks on his family’s faces. Especially the slight curl that Colin always got when he looked at the nerds at school with those glasses and their book bags. 

Like there was something wrong with them for being who they were.

Then Iggy made a joke about flotation devices and boobs and the moment was forgotten.

But Mickey remembered the look in his brother’s eyes.

_What’s wrong with him?_

When they’d walk down a street and a beautiful woman passed by, Iggy would hollar at her, Colin and Joey would whistle, Jamie would ask for her number...and he, well, he’d learned to make a comment about how horny he was - about how hard his dick was just thinking about fucking someone who looked like that.

The first time he’d done it, he was just following in his brothers’ and cousins’ footsteps. It made sense at the time and when he’d gotten a few laughs and appreciative head nods, he figured it was just the thing to do. So he kept doing it because no one looked twice at him for making those comments.

For the most part, Iggy left him alone. It was Colin that kept making remarks to him about - about being a fucking virgin.

 _14 years old and a virgin_ … well, thanks to 30 minutes in a dark bedroom he wasn’t one anymore.

_Was this how it was supposed to feel? Not being a virgin?_

It felt - if he was being honest - _wrong_.

Sighing, he stubbed out his cigarette and took a long sip of his beer. Replaying the last few hours yet again, he dissected every moment of what had happened tonight. 

He’d gone to a party with Iggy and Colin. They were hoping to make some money or steal some things from around the house - whatever was easiest.

It was a party in Wicker Park, which wasn’t frau-frau, but they did have a nice TV that if they could’ve gotten out of the house would’ve made enough cash to feed them more than cereal and Kraft Mac n Cheese for a few weeks.

Colin had been ragging on him for weeks now that he was getting too old to be a virgin and he _seriously needed to find some fine ass lady to give it up to_. 

He figured that tonight was the night. Walking up to some girl he vaguely remembered from high school, he asked her if she wanted to bang and well, that was it. 

He lost his virginity.

It was pretty anticlimactic if he was being honest.

It wasn’t like how he thought it would be, like in the movies. She wasn’t bad looking, but

she wasn’t exactly - he wasn’t exactly into it. 

It was just _weird_. 

The whole thing made his skin crawl. 

Her small hands on him felt strange. 

Her heavy breathing in his ear made his stomach turn. He figured he’d come in two seconds, but in fact, he could barely get it up. 

When she had taken her pants off, he’d figured out pretty quickly he just wasn’t into it.

But he’d already come this far.

He might as well get it over with.

He just decided to focus on something else as they did it.

* * *

Iggy, in contrast, kept saying he should do it when he was ready. Not to rush it. To do it with someone he wanted to fuck with. Colin would roll his eyes at him, but Iggy was too focused on Mickey when he said it to see how their eldest brother mocked him. An odd knowing look rested in his eye as if - as if he thought that maybe Mickey should be waiting for something. 

Waiting for someone.

Mickey wasn’t waiting.

The thought of doing so was ridiculous to him.

Sex wasn’t exactly something to take seriously where they lived, so he didn’t get why his brother kept giving him _this look_. 

A look he didn’t understand.

He didn’t really think that he’d ever really like someone enough to want to fuck them if he was being totally honest. He just wanted to get it over with. 

Like ripping off a bandaid. 

He’d never really had crushes. Never really dated any girls. Never even asked a girl out. Girls didn’t really interest him. 

Everyone told him that he’d be into the neighborhood girls eventually.

But eventually never really came.

He couldn’t really explain it. This lack of desire to fuck any of the girls in his class or the neighborhood. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to have sex, it just - he’d never really wanted to fuck a girl. He was horny, _all the time_. Just like every other teen guy, but looking at stolen issues of Playboy with his cousins or watching porn on Skinemax with his brothers just made him feel weird.

Sort’ve like when Pop’s dad got out of prison and came to live with them when he was eight. Every night his grandad had asked for someone to go out and get him a pack of cigarettes and every night Mickey was the one forced to go. Some how everyone could get out of it except him. But he couldn’t complain about it because then he’d get twice the beating. He’d learned to just grin and bear it. 

And then of course grandad had ended up back in the joint cause of a hit on some Ukranian Lit professor.

But that was a whole other thing.

It was sort’ve like that.

He had to pretend he was okay with the situation and that everything was fine. When in reality, his stomach was twisted in knots and he was just waiting for someone to call him out.

Once Mandy had been out with some of her friends and Mickey had snuck in her room to steal her weed. He’d come across one of Mandy’s girlie magazines with all the celebrities and make up tips and shit. He’d stolen it thinking that maybe if he had a _visual_ of a hot female celebrity it would help.

Just a plain female celebrity. 

Not one of those overly made up ones with the pouty lips, big hair, and eyeliner caked on. 

But there was a whole article in there about 50 of the hottest guys in Hollywood. 

Most, if not all, of them had been shirtless.

He’d burned the whole magazine when he was done and when Mandy had asked about it, he told her that Colin had done it.

Even if he’d wanted to talk about this shit, who was he supposed to explain it to?

Iggy? That was a laugh.

Colin? An even bigger laugh.

Mandy? She was busy dealing with her own boy drama.

He tried not to think too much about the knowing look in his older brother’s eyes. Even if he wanted to ask Iggy why he looked so strange every time Colin ragged on him about having sex, it wasn’t like they would have a fucking heart to heart. He was probably remembering when Colin started ragging on him to fuck some bitch for the first time. 

Mickey remembered that pretty vividly. Iggy had been dating some chick from school and Colin kept asking when they were going to fuck. Mickey remembered he actually liked the girl, but she was religious or had some sexual trauma. Whatever her childhood trauma, she wasn’t into having sex. 

Or maybe it was cause they were 13. 

Mickey just remembered how Colin kept pressuring Iggy and Iggy started pressuring the girl and eventually they broke up.

Iggy had been all emo and shit for weeks until Pops brought him to the whore house he frequented.

Maybe that’s why he kept looking at Mickey as if - as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what to say.

 _Whatever_.

If Iggy couldn’t fucking told him what was on his mind, then that was his problem.

They should’ve _both_ told Colin to shut the fuck up.

Mickey was tired of listening to Colin rag on him about being a fucking virgin.

_Why did it fucking matter?_

Taking another long slurp of his beer, he let out a loud belch that bounced off the walls of the building. The sun was beginning to rise over Chicago, but the darkness still lingered, as it would for most of the winter. Still, pink and orange streaks appeared across the sky signaling that it was probably time to head home soon.

He took a last chug of his beer as he contemplated the smug look that was going to be on Colin’s face when he finally told him. That was the motivation he needed to get off the cold cement floor and begin to make his way home. 

It was promising to be a long gloomy day. 

Mickey had long grown used to days like today in the dead of a Chicago winter.

Sometimes in the summer, it could be the brightest, sunniest days, and he still felt as if he was drowning in a grey day.

Mickey didn’t give a shit today though. 

Not when he finally got to show Colin up. 

Iggy wouldn’t care one way or the other. 

He knew Iggy wasn’t like that. 

Those non-verbal lingering looks he gave him clued him into the fact that there was more going on in her brother’s mind than he was letting on.

Iggy didn’t give a fuck about that type of shit, but Colin for whatever reason had been nagging him about it since he was 12 fucking years old. He didn’t get why, but apparently it was important to him that his littlest brother was as much of a piece of shit as the rest of the Milkovich clan.

Mickey walked the familiar landscape of his neighborhood. It began to come alive as the sun peaked out from the gloomy clouds.

He was walking under the L when he saw a familiar glimpse of red hair with the oldest Gallagher brother.

The smart one.

The one whose grade he was supposed to be in, but had been kept back based on the fact his father made him spend most of 8th grade doing runs with him because _I don’t look fucking suspicious with a 13 year old and you gotta learn the family business, faggot._

Mickey frowned as his father’s voice filtered through his head and instead of stopping to talk to the two Gallaghers he’d grown up with, he kept walking. Making sure to ignore the curious looks they shot him.

He heard one of them mention his name, but he couldn’t be bothered to know which.

A Gallagher was a Gallagher.

The only reason they weren’t considered to be like Milkovichs was because Frank was too much of a lazy piece of shit to join any crime syndicate.

And their mom was still alive. Although, all he knew about her was that she had some serious issues and took off for long periods of time.

Terry for all of his faults - and there were many - couldn’t ever be said that he was lazy. He was always out there trying to figure out who to fuck up, who to fuck, or who to fuck over.

And Laura Milkovich, all he could really say about her was that he regretted being the one to find her after the overdose.

Mickey had just been born into the wrong family.

He’d decided that pretty early on.

At least the Gallaghers had an older sister who gave a shit about them. The same thing couldn’t be said for his family. 

They were all left to their own devices.

He looked over his shoulder to see the light brown curls and the red hair. The smart Gallagher was messing up the redhead’s hair - the army one - and for one moment, he wondered what it would be like to have a brother who only gave him shit because he loved him, not because he wasn’t being a _man_.

Iggy for all of his weird idiosyncrasies wasn’t a bad guy. He was a good brother, Mickey’s favorite brother.

But that didn’t mean he’d open up to him about all these weird fucking feelings about losing his virginity.

He allowed himself exactly one moment to wonder if the smart and the redheaded Gallaghers had lost their virginities.

And then he flicked his cigarette butt and decided that whatever he felt about having sex for the first time was normal.

He wasn’t going to be the odd one out anymore. 

He’d just pretend it was fine.

He was normal.

He was fine.

* * *

“So, heard you slept with Katie Snow,” Mandy said while they were eating bowls of cereal that afternoon.

Iggy and Colin were at the table too and Mickey watched as they exchanged twin looks of amazement.

“Who told you that shit?” Mickey snarled.

Mandy raised an eyebrow and then looked at Colin and Iggy.

“The shitheads told me to ask. Were too chicken to do it themselves,” she snickered.

Mickey glared at all three of them, his half eaten bowl of cereal forgotten.

“Fuck all of you.”

“Isn’t sex supposed to make you happy? Jeez, was she a shitty lay or something?” Mandy said.

And maybe if she hadn’t touched so close to the truth, Mickey would’ve just let things lay there, but instead he scowled at her and told her to go eat shit. For a brief moment, a look of hurt crossed her features, but then a glare settled there.

“Real fucking mature, Mick,” she snarled and stood up and grabbed her bowl. “I thought you’d be happy,” she added before stomping toward her room.

Mickey watched her go until the door slammed shut and then looked at Colin and Iggy who were both watching him.

“What happened?” Colin asked, ignoring the death glare he was giving off.

Mickey threw himself back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

As if he were going to give Colin a play-by-play. His brother could be so oblivious sometimes. Just cause he was the oldest didn’t mean he got to call all the shots.

_It’s not going to be like this forever._

“I fucked her,” Mickey said with a little shrug.

“And?” Colin asked.

Mickey shrugged again, “it was fine.”

Colin narrowed his eyes at him, “fine? Is that like fucking code that you came too soon?”

“Fine means that it’s _fine_. I didn’t come too soon.”

“She has the second biggest tits in the tenth grade and you think she was just fine? Did you motorboat her boobs? Eat her out? Are you going to fucking tell us?” Colin demanded.

Mickey frowned and thought back to the sex they had. He had not motorboated her boobs. He hadn’t really wanted to touch them. And eating her out? 

_No fucking thanks._

“We fucked in that back room. It was just sex,” Mickey said not knowing what else to say.

Colin stared at him blankly for a moment as if he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what Mickey was saying.

“I figured you’d be happier about finally becoming a man, Mick,” he said finally.

Mickey watched as he stood up and stretched. 

“Told dad I’d head downtown to pick up a package. I’ll see you two fags later.”

And then there was just Iggy and Colin.

Mickey glanced over toward Iggy and saw him watching him carefully.

Again.

Was he finally going to spit out whatever it was he was dying to say?

“What?” Mickey snapped.

Iggy shrugged and looked back down at his cereal. Mickey followed his cue and began to eat the now soggy alphabet pieces.

“You know, it’s okay if you weren’t into it,” Iggy said eventually.

Mickey looked up at him and saw that he wasn’t looking at him, but chasing around a lone piece of cereal in the milk.

“You just gotta figure out what you like and then you’ll like it more,” he added, finally capturing the little piece.

Mickey watched him, but chose not to say anything as he mulled over his words. Iggy ate his last bite of cereal and then slowly stood up and went over to the sink to toss it in. He lingered for a moment and then turned back to look at Mickey with a kind of sad look in his eyes.

“Sorry about Colin. He’ll get better, you know.”

Mickey looked down at his bowl, quietly doubting that Colin would get better. He looked back up to find Iggy watching him, so he gave a little nod - the Milkovich version of a hug - and said, “thanks.”

And with that, Iggy left and Mickey sat in the kitchen staring at his bowl of soggy cereal until he realized how fucking emo he was being.

Then he helped measure out the new shipment of cocaine Colin had brought home and he vowed never to think again about how wrong it felt to have sex for the first time.

_Maybe I just need to find the right girl._

And that was the mantra he told himself the second time he had sex and the third and the fourth.

Eventually, he figured it would get better.

 _Eventually_.

_Eventually I’ll like it._

* * *

Two weeks after losing his virginity, Mickey was on his way home after school when he saw the redheaded Gallagher walking a few feet in front of him. He was staring down at his feet and looked lost in thought.

Naturally, a sudden idea came to Mickey. He quietly crept up behind him, making sure to not alert the redhead to his presence. He bent all of his fingers except his thumb and forefinger to make it into a gun and then pressed his finger against Gallagher’s neck. Making sure to press extra hard against his soft skin. He moved his head forward so his lips were right near his ear.

“Give me all your fucking money, firecrotch,” Mickey grumbled in a low voice.

Gallagher froze and held his hands up. Without turning around, he said in a slightly shaky tone, “I don’t fucking have anything.”

Cracking up, Mickey dropped his hand and moved to the side to show the other boy that he was messing around. Gallagher glared at him and looked close to shoving him before he remembered who he was talking to.

“What the fuck, Mickey,” Gallagher snarled.

Belly shaking laughs continued pouring out of Mickey’s mouth as Gallagher glared.

“You looked like you were about to shit your pants,” Mickey gasped out finally.

Gallagher huffed and shifted his bag on his shoulder. “I did not. Asshole.”

Mickey suddenly stopped laughing and scowled. “Who you calling an asshole, ass-face?”

Gallagher stared at him for a moment and then a tiny smile graced his mouth. Mickey noticed how baby face he looked in that moment with his round cheeks and splattering of freckles darkening his naturally pasty skin. His green eyes stood out even more when his lips crinkled upward. 

Mickey wondered if he ever looked that young when he was 12 years old. Despite his size, he liked to think he didn’t.

“Where’s your smarter half?” Mickey asked when Gallagher didn’t make a comment and instead started walking again.

Gallagher made a face, but before Mickey could make fun of him for it, he said, “detention.”

“Better than juvie,” Mickey said automatically because Iggy had just ended up in juvie for car theft.

He hadn’t even been stealing it. 

Just _borrowing_ it cause it was too cold to walk home.

Any fucking cop should’ve given him a break in negative 20 weather.

“True,” Gallagher muttered. 

Mickey fell into step beside them and for a few minutes neither of them said much.

Mickey’s thoughts drifted to Iggy in juvie and how Pops had thrown a party before he went inside to celebrate his first stint. Then Pops had made a comment to him about not getting caught by the pigs when he took over Iggy’s duties in the business. 

He said he needed to man the fuck up.

Basically, Mickey had to spend most of his waking hours on runs and deliveries. And stay in school enough to avoid alerting DCFS.

“Your brother still selling English papers?” Mickey asked remembering that one of his teachers had mentioned something about a paper being due at the end of the week.

He couldn’t stay in 8th grade another year.

It was humiliating. He could at least make it to Freshman year of high school.

Third time in the 8th grade would also be a red flag to DCFS. 

Probably. 

He didn’t know. 

What he knew was that he didn’t want them knocking around or else Terry was going to have his ass.

“Yeah, $50 a paper.”

“You tell him to hit me up, okay? Need a paper about Shakespeare or whatever.”

Gallagher snorted, “you don’t even know the book it’s on?”

“I know what book it’s fucking on, Gallagher. Just cause I don’t give a shit about English doesn’t mean shit, you know,” Mickey said not liking Gallagher’s mocking tone.

He gave him a sidelong look and then quickly looked away. “Didn’t mean to offend, Mickey.”

Snorting, Mickey held back telling Gallagher not to call him by his first name. But he decided to focus on the apologetic look on his face instead.

“It’s Romeo and Juliet.”

Gallagher looked at him in surprise and then a hint of a smile appeared there. “Wouldn’t want to write a paper on that either.”

Mickey nodded and took out a cigarette from his pocket as they passed the Alibi. It wasn’t too much further until he’d reach his house. Just a few more blocks with the redhead and then he could play video games with Mandy.

“Heard about Iggy. How long does he have?” Gallagher asked curiously.

Shrugging, he popped a cigarette in his mouth. “Six months give or take,” he paused to light the cigarette and then offered one to Gallagher, who moved to take one. “Heard about your mom, man. Shit sucks.”

Gallagher froze for a moment with his hand stretched out and then slowly nodded before letting his hand clasp around the offered cigarette.

“Yeah. It does.”

“What prison she in?” Mickey asked, taking a drag on the cigarette.

Gallagher took the offered Zippo. Taking his time lighting and smoking the cigarette, finally, he said, “She’s not in jail.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him and took another hit of his cigarette before answering. “Not in jail?”

“No, man, she, uh, she’s gone. Left.”

Mickey was quiet as he took that in. He felt an unfamiliar heaviness in his stomach that took him a few minutes to recognize as pity. It was the same feeling he got when his dad came home drunk calling his mom’s name and crashing into furniture until some poor fucker got in his way.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said, surprising himself and Gallagher. He cleared his throat and covered it up with a casual, “mom’s are useless anyway. Make you eat your vegetables and shit. Our mom just got high as fuck and passed out on the couch for days on end.”

He felt Gallagher's eyes on him as he focused on his cigarette.

“She’ll be back.”

Mickey snorted, “mine won’t.”

Silence fell back over them once more as they continued walking into their neighborhood. They had a block to go, but Mickey found himself enjoying his time with Gallagher. He was quiet, but Mickey could tell that there was more in there. Probably used to being quiet with having to deal with all those siblings. Mickey should know, he always had to fight for a place at the table in his family.

_He’d make a good friend._

Frowning, Mickey reminded himself that he didn’t really _do_ friends. He had his brothers and Mandy and his cousins. Why should he need anyone else? Everyone thought he was an idiot or aggressive or both. Most thought he was dangerous and mean. Mickey liked to think that all were true. Adding a friend to that would just, well, Mickey liked his life. Why add another person to it? 

Especially a Gallagher who had as much drama as one of Mandy’s dumbass teen shows.

_No thanks._

“Tell your brother, I want a paper,” Mickey said coming up to the corner where he had to turn.

Gallagher nodded, “Romeo and Juliet.”

“Yeah. Need a solid C+.”

“Always going for the top.”

Mickey showed him the finger and turned on the corner to head toward his house. He threw out the cigarette in a pile of dirty snow and stuck his hands in his coat pocket. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Gallagher heading toward his own house, nearly getting hit by a car in the process.

_Fucking Gallaghers._

Mickey shook his head and began to walk a little faster hoping that someone had paid the gas bill so their house would be a little warmer than the fucking arctic bullshit that had taken over Chicago.

* * *

As the winter turned into spring, thoughts of his lack of virginity disappeared when he found himself shipped off to join Iggy in juvie. Thanks to dear old dad, he was caught with an ounce of cocaine. The only silver lining was that he wasn’t slapped with intent to distribute. He didn’t have to deal with Colin.

And they had hot water.


	2. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets out of juvie and realizes he's not like his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks so much to those of you who commented and kudoed! I really appreciate the feedback. Thanks to those who read this little story too! I should've mentioned that the first and this chapter are pretty Milkovich centric. Next chapter we get more into the early Ian/Mickey dynamic (was that I spoiler, I feel like it was?)
> 
> Just a heads up! The F-word is thrown around a lot in here (not fuck) and there's descriptions of past violence/emotional abuse. Also, there's a brief sexual description. I think that's all my warnings...
> 
> Thanks again for the feedback! Let me know what you think and we can expect more Ian in the next chapter. I should have it up next Fri (let's keep to Fri for updates I think). Enjoy!

“You a faggot now after your first stint?” 

Those were the first words out of Colin’s mouth when Mickey entered the harsh light of day after spending seven months in juvie. It was cold again in Chicago or at least the summer was over when Mickey finally was allowed out. 

It didn’t matter much to him what time of the year it was anyway. Whether it was fall or spring, his life didn’t change much.

He was still a Milkovich.

And he was still expected to act like one.

The only difference now was that he was supposed to go back to school and repeat whatever the fuck grade he was in.

He thought he was a Freshman, but with his luck, he could be in fucking 8th grade.

Again.

15 years old and still stuck in 8th grade. 

It was not something he was proud of. But then again he wasn’t exactly the star pupil. Never had been. His teachers went out of his way to ignore him. The other students coward in their seats when he walked by.

He wasn’t the smartest cigarette in the carton. 

And he was okay with it.

Mostly.

Probably.

Eventually.

What was even the point of finishing high school anyway, especially when a life of guns and drugs was all his future held?

“Fuck you, Colin,” Mickey snapped stealing his pack of cigarettes from his hand and

lighting one up. He took a long drag, savoring the taste after going without it.

He found cigs of course in juvie, but it was difficult to smoke without the guards noticing. He had to find new and innovative ways to get his nicotine rush, which was a pain in the ass when all he wanted was to sit and smoke a cigarette in peace.

Didn’t matter much now. 

He was out.

For a little while at least.

No doubt he’d find himself back in there sometime in his future judging by the way Colin was hollering on about the plans Pops had for him.

But he’d always known that.

He’d realized that lock up was the only constant in his future when he was about eight years old and he watched Pops get hauled away by the cops. He remembered feeling so in awe that four cops needed to drag his father out of the house and to the cop car. 

What really stood out to him was how they all knew him by name. They didn’t call him _Mr. Milkovich_ or _sir_. 

Just _Terry_.

And then Colin told him and Mandy all about what Pops did. How he’d stolen a bunch of coke from some gangbangers and had gunned all of them down to make sure they never came after him and his family.

At fifteen, Mickey knew that wasn’t exactly the case. If Pops had committed fucking murder, he sure as hell wouldn’t be going in and out of prison like one of the hood girls going to get her nails done. 

He’d never learned what exactly that specific arrest had been for, but after Colin had told him and Mandy that story, she’d asked if he’d ever been to prison. She was six at the time and viewed all of her big brothers as these strange ethereal figures who went in and out of her little world. 

Except for Mickey.

He liked to think he always stood up for her, at least until puberty hit and hanging out with his kid sister was too lame.

Colin had looked down at her a little sadly and said, “Mandy, one way or another all Milkovichs end up in prison.” He’d taken a drag on a joint he’d been rolling while telling the story and then added, “except maybe that faggot cousin of ours who lives in New York City and sucks cock for money. It’s just like what we’re meant to do, I guess.”

And even at eight years old, Mickey realized how fucking depressing that was.

But he never thought to fight it, he was a Milkovich and that’s where he belonged. Getting older just sort’ve solidified the fact he didn’t have any real skills. He wasn’t smart like that one asshole Gallagher. He wasn’t that cunning like Pops who never took no for an answer and always had a backup plan. He didn’t even consider himself that good looking like Mandy who got everything she wanted just by looking at a guy. He just viewed himself as middle of the road.

Sort’ve good at math.

Sort’ve good looking.

Sort’ve cunning and driven.

That feeling probably helped contribute to the fact he was eager to show everyone what he could do. How _he_ could be the leader of the Milkovich brothers and come up with the schemes to get them money.

He just had to prove everyone wrong.

And he knew his time was coming soon. 

He just had to wait for Colin to fuck up.

“...got a bunch of Glocks at home we gotta sell. Oh hey! I watched some video on YouTube about building a semi automatic, so I think we’re going to try doing that once Joey gets all the materials for it. He’s gotta go down to South Bend or some shit and cop some of the shit from his dad...” Colin rambled.

Mickey tuned him out as they walked toward the L stop and hoped on the train. He stared out the window, taking in all the little differences that he’d missed while he was away. 

In juvie, he had Iggy with him for a month or two, but then he was released and he was alone.

It had been strange to be in there by himself. It was the first time he’d ever really been by himself. He’d always been surrounded by siblings, his dad, or cousins. But this was the first time that he didn’t have anyone backing him up. At first, it freaked him out, but once he realized the freedom he had in there, well, he took advantage of it. He could do whatever he wanted without Iggy or Colin or any of his cousins telling Pops what he was up to. 

And thank fuck for that because he wasn’t sure what to think about the warm mouth he’d seeked out in the darkness of the lonely nights in juvie.

It was the same one every time, but even if it was a different warm mouth, Mickey didn’t want to think about it.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but about a month after Iggy left, he’d found himself faced with the possibility of doing something that could get him killed at home.

In juvie, well, real world rules didn’t necessarily apply.

Growing up, Pops would always go on about being an all powerful motherfucker while in prison. Mickey never really understood that until he went to juvie for his first time and he noticed how fucking _horny_ all those teenage guys were all locked up together.

The problem was that while most of them probably spent a lot of time dreaming about some hot bitch they had at home or jerking it over stolen celebrities pictures, Mickey had found that once he stripped away the disgust of being with another - another - well, it didn’t feel _bad_.

It didn’t feel like when he had sex with women.

It felt - it felt...

It was easy to tell himself in juvie that he had to do what he had to while he was locked away. He knew that Pops had fucked other men, even Colin and probably Iggy had. 

It was hard being locked up.

Sometimes you just gotta pretend it’s not happening.

And Mickey knew all about that.

The thing was once the sentence was finished, he knew they went back to women once they were out.

What happened in lock up, stayed there.

Mickey knew he’d be the same. 

He didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

If there was a more homophobic prick than Pops in the neighborhood, Mickey had a hard time finding him because his dad was front and center.

Mickey remembered once when he was about five or six his dad brought over some guys to help with a big haul of stolen goods. They had done some job and were working on selling the shit. He’d become friendly - because Terry Milkovich didn’t do friends - with one of the guys Uncle Ronnie had brought over. After they sold all the items, the guy - Mickey couldn’t remember his name - hung around for a few weeks. They did another job and another together and after a year he seemed to be a permanent fixture in the house.

And then something happened that Mickey couldn’t exactly remember. Colin told him later that they had all gone down to the Alibi for beers and the guy - whatever his name was - got a little too drunk and made a move on someone. 

Colin had told Mickey the story twice and Iggy had told him once and each version was different. But what he did gather was that the guy had hit on another man and Terry saw this and flipped a shit. 

They never saw the guy again, but Mickey remembered how bloody Pop’s hands had been when he’d come home that night. And then he remembered making all three of them sit down and listen to a long rant on the unnaturalness and repugnance of homosexuality.

He’d used words that seemed to reverberate through to Mickey’s core as he got in each one of their faces and told them that _if they ever fucked another man he’d personally hunt them down and skin them alive_. He’d bury their flayed bodies in unmarked graves or toss them in Lake Michigan. He’d make sure that no one ever found them again.

Mickey remembered crying himself to sleep.

Juvie had been an escape from his real life, so now that he was out, Mickey knew he’d go right back to trying to fuck women. 

Because there was no other choice.

_Milkoviches aren’t shirt lifters, Mikhailo. If you ever fuck another man, wherever you are, I will find you._

_I will fucking hunt you down and kill you._

His father’s words cut him to the core.

Even at 15.

But the thing was while his father and brothers may not have minded what they did in lock up, Mickey found that he _prefered_ it.

And there in lies the fucking problem.

Because Milkovichs weren’t fucking fags.

* * *

They got back to their neighborhood in the early afternoon. Iggy was waiting at the L stop for them, so they decided to head over to the Kash N Grab for some snacks before going home to get high. 

It wasn’t much as celebrations went, but Mickey didn’t mind. He’d rather just smoke and be alone in his room, enjoying the silence and doodling in a notebook he’d stolen from CVS. He was surprised as they got to the Kash N Grab to see Mandy leaning against the side of the store smoking a cigarette with two of her friends.

He couldn’t remember their names, but they were just as skanky as his sister. Although, he was proud to say that his sister was the ringleader.

“What’s up?” Iggy asked leering at one of Mandy’s friends.

Mickey smirked when he saw Mandy roll her eyes, so just to mess with her, he grinned at the other girl. A petite dirty blonde who wore way too much eyeliner and had chapped lips.

“You wanna go smoke?” Mickey asked, feeling his brother’s eyes on him.

The girls giggled and Mandy threw her cigarette on the ground to stomp it out with her foot.

“Surprised Colin actually went to pick you up,” she snapped her gum and pushed the door to the store open.

Mickey shrugged, choosing to follow after his sister instead of flirt with the dirty blonde girl who was already giving him moon eyes.

The six of them headed into the store and spread out to find their personal go-to munchies. Mickey was browsing the selection of Pringles when he heard a vaguely familiar voice to his left.

“...need to make at least $50 for groceries.”

The smart Gallagher was standing right beside him with the redheaded one on his other side. Mickey noticed the redheaded one had lost some of that babyfaceness that he’d had the last time he’d seen him. He looked as if he’d gotten taller too, he was almost as tall as the smart one. 

Although, Mickey thought that wasn’t saying much. 

The redhead was looking at him curiously when Mickey glanced up. In response, he grinned maliciously at him.

“What’s up, faggots?” Mickey asked, smirking.

“Thought you were in juvie,” the smart one said.

Mickey shrugged, “just got out.”

“We’ll warn the neighborhood,” he joked.

Mickey flicked him off and went back to browsing through the Pringles. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the redhead was still watching him, but when he fully looked at him, he was focused on the Pringles.

“Hey, Mick, you get the Pringles?” Mandy called hurrying over to them. Her two friends were behind her and Iggy and Colin brought up the rear.

“Looks like a party,” the smart one commented.

Before Mickey could reply, Mandy spoke up with a flirty smirk. “Mickey just got out of juvie.”

“He mentioned.” 

“We’d invite you, but there’s already an even number,” Colin said unapologetically, already making a move to wrap himself around one of Mandy’s friends.

“Don’t want a sausage fest,” he added.

Mickey rolled his eyes at his brother and looked back toward the two Gallaghers who were looking amused.

“Speak for yourself,” Mandy grumbled, “maybe I want to invite some guys over who _aren’t_ my brothers.”

“It’s Mickey’s party, he can decide,” Iggy said, looking to him to make the final decision.

Mickey scowled, “I don’t give a fuck.”

Because he didn’t. He couldn’t care less if the two Gallaghers came over. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. All he wanted to do was go to his room and enjoy the silence after having to sleep in a room of 50 plus teenager guys. 

Colin snorted and looked down at the girl he wrapped himself around. “I think six is a crowd, Mandy. Besides, Mickey can keep you company while we entertain your friends,” Colin said with a laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just that you’re not going to want to partake.”

“Fuck you talking about? I just got out of juvie. Don’t you think I want to fuck a bitch or two?” Mickey snapped.

Colin shrugged, “I didn’t think Christy and Lindsey were your type.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow and prepared to tell his brother to go fuck himself when Colin hurried forward.

“You like banging fat chicks and these girls are _fine_.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone looked at Mickey. 

He made sure to put on his best fuck off face and said, “fuck you, I like what I like.”

Not wanting to think too much about what he just said, he grabbed two cans of Pringles, shoved past the Gallaghers, and moved toward the door. 

He glanced over at the cashier once, but he found him distracted by looking at the redheaded Gallagher.

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, alarm bells were going off at that look, but he was too disgruntled with Colin’s comments to really give a fuck about the lecherous look that was directed at the redhead.

* * *

On the hunt for some weed, Mickey pushed open Mandy’s bedroom door knowing she had some hidden in her mess of a room. After being home for a week, Mickey was already feeling tired of the chaos that always took over the Milkovich residence. 

Despite having to go to school and probation, Pops had him running to Skokie to make drops and pick up. 

His probation officer was some asshole who insisted he call him Big Donnie. For the most part, he was trying to inch by until he reached retirement. So Big Donnie wasn’t really the worst that he could’ve been assigned. The fucker wasn’t bothered by much. It actually was better since Mickey was ditching school and that was part of his deal to not be sent back to juvie.

School, on the other hand was a fucking joke. He definitely had no idea what was going on in any of his classes. His teachers had no desire to deal with him either, which, fine, whatever, he didn’t need an education anyway. 

The one subject he did enjoy was math and even in that class his teacher was a fucking prick. 

The homework he was assigned was easy despite not paying much attention. Even when he got As and Bs back on assignments, the teacher barely looked his way.

All his other classes he hated.

Maybe science had some merits, with dissecting shit, but English and History - who gave a fuck.

Most of the time he only went to school to sell drugs anyway. 

What was the point when he was fucked for life?

He already knew what his future held. He was fooling himself if he thought that his love of math would get him anywhere but figuring out ounces and dime bags. 

Or who owed him money. 

He figured he could be dealt a worse hand. He could be like his half-sister who lived with her meth head of a mother.

Mickey looked around Mandy’s messy room. Her clothes were everywhere. She had a mountain of dirty clothes on a chair. There was a small pile of books and textbooks near her bed and her open backpack was dumped out. He noticed some condoms on her blankets too and he tried to erase _that_ imagine from his mind forever.

The posters on her wall showed off overly muscled men who were shirtless. He wasn’t sure when those had gone up - they definitely hadn’t been there before he went away.

He looked away quickly and began to search for the weed he’d come here for. Going for the dresser first, all he could find was makeup, some coins, and crumbled receipts. He picked through some of the makeup to see if he’d missed anything, but all he could find was more of that gunk his sister spread on her face.

He considered opening the drawers, but he wasn’t that desperate to go through his sister’s underwear and bras and shit to find the weed. 

That was fucking nasty.

He just prayed that it wasn’t in there. 

Looking around the room, he moved toward the bedside table with the little drawers. The surface was overflowing with wrappers, empty cigarette cartons, lighters, tissues, a few more books, and a small lamp. 

After a quick search, he came up empty handed and decided to move to the drawers. He opened the top one and paused when he saw what was inside.

There, staring up at him was a magazine cover featuring a smiling shirtless man. His skin was a golden brown, his smile was wide and welcoming showing off his bright white teeth. His eyes were a blue-green that were penetrating. His arms were defined, his cheekbones sharp, and those abs, well-- 

Mickey’s stomach turned when his eyes landed on them and heat spread across the back of his neck. 

He didn’t allow himself to think much about what he was doing. 

His fingers reached forward and picked up the magazine. He hesitated for a brief moment before closing the drawer, stuffing the magazine down his pants, and taking off back down the hallway to his room. 

His search for weed forgotten.

* * *

Mickey knew after the warm mouth sucked his dick for the first time that there was something wrong with him.

Maybe he knew it after he fucked that girl and lost his virginity.

Or maybe he knew it all along.

Whatever, he definitely knew he wasn’t like his brothers after his first blow job by the warm mouth.

He didn’t allow himself to watch the warm mouth suck his cock. He hadn’t wanted to. Didn’t want to feel the disgust of what he was doing distract him from getting off. He had closed his eyes and told himself that the warm mouth was a girl.

Because in his mind, that’s his only option.

As the warm mouth worked around him though, he began to feel less tense. He didn’t feel that initial discomfort he had when he lost his virginity. He didn’t even feel that disgusted after he came.

No, the disgust reared its head afterward when he realized that _he enjoyed it._

After reality came crashing back down around him.

Repulsion filled him at _who_ he’d done it with.

The anger he felt at himself, at the world for making him who he was, at his fucking family for being so - so - it all had caused him to lash out and wind up in solitary. 

Or juvie’s version of solitary.

He’d spent many years trying to be like his brothers and his father. He’d learned to lie and cheat and steal the way all Milkoviches do. He learned to shoot a gun and use his knuckles more than his tongue to express himself. 

And that was all well and good.

For now.

So he figured when he went to juvie, he’d just do what all of his family members did - _make lock up his bitch_.

But somewhere in all of his attempts to be like every other Milkovich who’d grown up on the South Side of Chicago, he’d realized that he wasn’t.

He wasn’t like his brothers who liked fucking girls.

He wasn’t like his father who could fuck men in prison and find it disgusting to do it outside - in the real world.

And maybe that was something he knew all along - since he was that scared little kid being told he’d be killed if he ever fucked a man.

But the thing was he was alone in the house with a stolen magazine of Mandy’s. He was flipping through it and taking in the overly muscled, tanned, and beautiful men staring up at him.

Nothing bad was happening.

His dad didn’t know about it.

Colin wasn’t bursting in on him.

Iggy wouldn’t tell on him.

Mandy wouldn’t snicker and sneer.

And he couldn’t really resist what he was about to do.

No one would know.

It was his secret. 

A secret that he’d be killed for if he didn’t take it to the grave.

He flipped the pages, taking care to study each one. He took in their smooth looking skin, their wide, seductive smiles. The way their arms bulged and their abs rippled. The roundness of their asses and the cut of their hips.

He was about halfway through the magazine, when he came to a page with a man with copper hair, blue eyes, and a teasing smile. He wasn’t as tan as the rest of the guys or as muscled, but Mickey didn’t really mind. Not when he had that teasing smile on his lips. 

Setting the magazine on the bed beside him, Mickey slowly pulled his boxers down to his thighs and looked down at his semi hard dick. He bit his lip as doubts began to infiltrate his mind, but before he could begin to second guess himself, he wrapped his hand around his cock. 

_It’s not weird._

_I’m just jacking off._

_It’s not weird._

_This is normal._

Slowly, he began to move his hand up and down as he kept his eyes glued to the magazine. He allowed his mind to wander freely as he imagined this man wrapping his mouth around his dick. 

Mickey’s breath came out a little faster and his hand began to increase in its pace. He paid attention to the head of his cock the way he liked and he watched as pre-cum began to coat his hand. 

Keeping his eyes on the magazine, he moved his other hand where it was keeping the page and placed it on his balls to massage them. 

The change in sensation caused him to close his eyes as pleasure rippled through his body. 

Pleasure that he hadn’t felt with any of the girls he’d fucked and not even with the warm mouth. 

This was pure pleasure that came from knowing his body and what he liked. He stopped thinking and let his fingers roam over his nether regions, just wanting to feel. Moving his hand from his balls downward, for one moment he considered finding out what it felt like to press a finger into his ass. But the idea of it freaked him out a little, so he moved his digit away from his opening and back toward his balls.

Moving his hand up and down his leaking cock, he began to feel the telltale signs that he was close. 

He squeezed his already closed eyes and arched his back. Rubbing his thumb against his head, he gripped his cock a little firmer and massaged his balls a little harder causing his lower belly to constrict. 

He heard himself make a choked sound as his balls began to tighten and liquid came out of his cock in thick streaks of white. His vision blacked for a moment and he felt the warmth of the sticky wetness coat his hand. 

Breathing heavily, he finally came back down to earth. For a moment, he laid still on the bed with his hands frozen on his cock and his balls. Letting out a little sigh, he looked around for something to wipe himself down. 

Finding a dirty sock, he grabbed it and wiped his hand off before cleaning himself and tossing it into a pile of dirty clothes. Slowly, he sat up and looked around his room, feeling as if everything should be a little different than it had been a few minutes prior.

Finally, he couldn’t avoid it any longer he glanced down at the magazine that was still open to the picture of the copper haired man. He swallowed thickly. Grabbing it, he shoved it down between the side of his bed where the mattress met the wall. Shuffling back into his pants, he left his room and went to go get a beer. 

_I’ll throw it away the first chance I get._

* * *

Mickey got off the train in Skokie and began to walk toward Uncle Richie’s house who wasn’t actually his uncle. He was just a close ‘friend’ of his dad’s who dealt in pretty much everything. It was also where Mickey spent a majority of his time these days learning the trade, how to sell quick and easy, and how not to get caught.

Although Mickey didn’t know why Uncle Richie was teaching him that last one when he and Pops had met in prison.

Uncle Richie’s was about six blocks away from the train station, so the walk really directed him into Skokie. it always amazed Mickey how vastly different this area was from his own neighborhood in the city. 

The suburbs were weird he’d decided as he took out a cigarette and lit it as he walked.

He was about halfway there when he saw two men walking their dog. They looked older, but Mickey didn’t know how old. They seemed younger than his dad, but the grey hair on one of them threw him off. 

They could be 50 for all he knew or 30. 

What really caught his eye was how close they were standing to one another. As if they didn’t have a care in the world at who saw them looking _that_ friendly together.

One was laughing as the other smiled at him and while Mickey’s first guess would be that they were friends or brothers, it was _the way_ that he was looking at the one laughing that clued him in to what they actually were.

They were _gay_.

And not just gay, but _together_.

Together.

Boyfriends.

Partners.

Mickey almost choked on the cigarette smoke as the realization hit him. And once he became aware of it, his eyes stayed glued to them. 

They were standing across the street from him waiting for their dog to finish shitting. They could’ve easily caught him staring, but they only had eyes for each other.

He noticed the one laughing leaned over to the other one and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

Mickey’s stomach flipped at the gesture and everything in him told him to look away, but it was like a car accident - he just couldn’t. 

He wanted to know more and see more and learn how...

He watched as the other one blushed, smiled shyly, and returned the kiss before reaching for his hand. They continued walking down the street, neither seeing Mickey.

Probably seeing no one but each other.

His eyes followed them until they turned onto the corner and disappeared from sight. 

Glancing down at his cigarette, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Flicking it toward the garbage, he began to walk again toward Uncle Richie’s, but his mind was clouded with what he’d just seen.

_The gay men._

The _love_ between the gay men.

He’d never seen anything like it before.

It was like the time he accidentally walked in on Iggy crying with those bruises and cuts decorating his face.

Something he wasn’t supposed to see.

A heaviness infiltrated his heart as he replayed the scene. Before he could shut down the wistfulness he felt, a lone thought floated across his mind.

_Will I ever have that?_

And then another one.

_Will I ever be that free?_

* * *

When he got to Uncle Richie’s, he suggested that they go to the bar around the corner and grab a beer. If Mickey had one too many and found himself in a brawl on the L platform on his way home, then he just chalked that up to being a Milkovich.

That’s just the way things were when trouble followed you everywhere. 

He told himself he was fine with this life as he held his sleeve to his bloody nose to stop the flow of crimson liquid.

He wasn’t missing anything as he trudged his way home feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach.

He _was_ free after all.

Out of juvie.

Out in the real world.

Living the dream.


	3. Mac N Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian hang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this little story! I really appreciate the feedback, kudos, and bookmarks! I know I'm early on the update, but I wrote most of this chapter in a day unlike spending the week on it. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys like it too! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!
> 
> There are mentions of Terry's ickiness, just so you know!

“Mikhailo, can you stay after for a moment?” The English teacher asked.

He hadn’t bothered learning her name. She hadn’t bothered using his _preferred_ name despite correcting her for the last six months; so why should he remember hers?

Maybe it was a testament for how long he’d been engulfed in a give-and-take mentality, but if someone was openly disregarding him, he wasn’t giving them shit. 

And she was openly disregarding his desire for her to call him Mickey.

So fuck her.

And whatever the fuck her name was.

He ignored the fact that he came to school so seldomly he never really bothered learning _any_ of his teacher’s names anymore. Whether they called him Mickey or Mikhailo, he could give a fuck about the people teaching him the Pythagorean Theorem, the Civil War, and demonstrative sentences.

He saw no point. 

Not when he was rarely ever in class. 

Not when his future wasn’t bright and opportunistic with college on the horizon like his classmates.

He and his teachers knew his future was dodging shivs in prison.

He made it a point to come to class just enough not to get called out for truancy. He didn’t need social workers sniffing around - Pops would fucking kill him, especially after the situation with Colin.

He had more important things to do anyway. 

Making money to buy food and pay the bills took priority over writing essays about closeted homosexual characters and reading love stories that never came true.

But now the English teacher was staring at him like she saw right through his bullshit and needed to give him a good talking to.

He fucking hated when teachers thought he needed a good talking to.

Nine times out of ten they were blowing wind out of their ass.

He slouched over to her desk as everyone else filed out, looking at him curiously. She waited until the door was shut and it was just the two of them before she began what was sure to be a long lecture on how he should take his future seriously.

How he could actually _do_ something if he applied himself.

He had gotten that lecture twice in his life, but he’d seen enough TV shows and movies about teachers wanting to save kids like him to know it by heart.

Once he saw the smart Gallagher getting a talking to like that and he’d smirked most of the way home at the way teachers thought they could save everyone. 

Like kids like him _deserved_ to be saved _._

“You haven’t been coming to class,” she stated, her thin arms crossing over her chest and giving him a level stare.

She was in her mid-40s and Mickey would’ve said she was good looking once upon a time, but the crows feet, stained blouse, and the wispy blonde hair in a tight bun made her look like she’d given up on life.

For a brief moment, Mickey wondered if he’d look that old when he was that age.

And then he wondered if he’d even _make it_ to that age.

Since Colin had been put away for drug possession - no surprise there - Mickey had been intent on proving to his father, his cousins, and even to Iggy that he was the one they should come to for any and all money making ideas. 

He’d recently pulled off a heist where he’d gone around to one of the North Side neighborhoods and asked for money for kids with cleft chins or lips or whatever. He’d gotten one of the neighborhood kids who didn’t look too deranged to come with him and he gave him $40 out of the profit they’d made. 

Pops had been pretty fucking proud of the $500 in cash he’d brought home.

He was also the one who was now in charge of dealing on a lower level. Colin had always been the one to go grab the packages, but now Pops had put him in charge. He’d only gotten in three fights with customers who didn’t want to pay up and once a meth head pulled a knife on him.

It had only been a graze though and with some duct tape, he was as good as new.

For the most part, the drug dealing was the easiest way to make money. That didn’t mean it was the safest.

The way he was going he wasn’t sure if his 40th birthday was even in the cards. He figured he’d be lucky to make it to 20 with all his limbs intact.

“And?”

“And there’s a 10 page paper that’s due tomorrow that’s half your grade. Did you even know about it?” she asked pointedly. 

He paused and considered lying, “uh no.”

“Well, it’s a paper comparing two of the books we read this year. Did you even read the books?”

He scowled at her and for one brief moment the words ‘go fuck yourself, bitch’ were on his tongue, but they never bubbled out. Instead, he nodded his head slowly, not trusting that he wouldn’t tell her those four words when he opened his mouth.

She stared at him, “I don’t want to fail you, Mikhailo.”

“Then don’t.”

“Turn in this paper.”

She paused for a moment and bite her lip, “I understand you’re on probation--”

“I got off it last Friday.”

“Well, then let’s keep it that way.”

He frowned and waited for her to go on, but she was already beginning to pack up her papers.

“So half our grade, huh?” he asked.

She glanced up and looked almost surprised that he was still there. As if she’d done her duty by warning him he’d fail if he didn’t turn in the paper and was now dusting her hands of the problem. He hadn’t been to English in two weeks and he could’ve figured that out himself.

Some fucking lecture. 

“Yes, and I don’t want to have to fail you. You know if you applied yourself--”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’d go to college and shit.”

She smiled slightly, “I know that you don’t think you’d make it but--”

“I don’t got money for college.”

“There are loans, scholar--”

“I’m South Side and a Milkovich. I don’t think colleges will be handing out scholarships to someone who's been to juvie.”

She gave him a sad look, “you’re smart, Milkhailo.”

Mickey scoffed and looked away from her. He began to move toward the door wanting to get out of here.

“You are--”

“College isn’t for people like me. I’ll get you the paper tomorrow so you don’t gotta fail me,” he said, his hand already on the doorknob.

He ignored her sad green eyes as he opened the classroom door and went into the empty hallway. English was his last class of the day and he was ready to go home and get high. He had no desire to write a 10 page paper or do any of the other homework he was assigned.

He began to walk toward the front doors, not even bothering to go to his locker to get any of the textbooks that had been growing cobwebs in there since the beginning of his 10th grade year.

He was outside, lighting up a cigarette when he saw the redheaded Gallagher leaning against a tree looking at something in his hand. Mickey would assume it was a phone if the Gallaghers weren’t poorer than the Milkovichs. 

He wandered over to him, an idea already forming in his mind.

“Yo, Gallagher. Where’s your brother?” Mickey asked coming to stop in front of him. He glanced down at what he was looking at in his hand and saw a brochure for ROTC. He snorted reading the words on the front of it. 

_Scholar, Athlete, Leader._

The fuck.

“Finishing calc, I guess,” he said with a little shrug.

Mickey frowned, “you waiting on him?”

Gallagher nodded, “yeah. What do you need him for, Mickey?”

“Need a paper.”

“He’s booked till next week,” Gallagher said. “Can I have one?”

Mickey scowled, but handed him his pack anyway. “Well, would he make an exception for $60 to write a paper tonight?”

Gallagher raised his eyebrows as he lit the cigarette. He took a few drags before answering, “$80.”

“$65.”

“$75.”

“$70.”

“Deal.”

They nodded at each other and continued smoking their cigarettes. 

“You can go, I can tell him when he meets me,” Gallagher said when he was halfway through the cigarette.

Mickey sniffed and thumbed at his nose before he answered. “You think I’m going to fall for that? No fucking way. I’m waiting to talk to him myself. I gotta tell him what it’s about and shit.”

Gallagher stared at him for a moment and then frowned. “You think I wouldn’t tell him?”

“I don’t know what to think about you, Gallagher.”

He smirked slightly and Mickey continued to smoke his cigarette hoping that he wouldn’t say anything else as they waited for the smart one to appear.

“Well, the first thing you need to know is that I’m trustworthy,” Gallagher said, almost a note of pride in his tone.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “anyone who says they’re trustworthy usually isn’t.”

“Well, I am.”

“Is that why you want to join that bullshit?” Mickey asked, nodding down at the brochure.

Gallagher shrugged, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he finished up his cigarette and tossed it in the trash near the tree they were standing next to. Mickey finished his cigarette a few minutes later and as he was considering what to do next to pass the time, they saw the smart one approaching them. He watched as Gallagher hurriedly shoved the brochure in his bag. Mickey knew he should look away before he caught him staring, but when he did, he just gave him a sheepish smile.

“Mickey Milkovich, as I live and breathe,” the smart one stated.

Mickey glanced at Gallagher and then back to his brother before answering. “Need a paper. Your brother says I can get it for $70 by tomorrow?”

The brothers looked at each other and they seemed to have a silent conversation for a few minutes before the older one nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Walk with us, we’re already late.” 

Mickey nodded and fell into step on one side of the smart one as Gallagher moved to his other side. He lit up a cigarette and Mickey began to tell him that he needed a paper comparing two books that they read this year.

“What two books do you want it on?” he asked, blowing out smoke.

Mickey frowned, “I don’t know what the fuck we read this year.”

The smart one frowned, “10th grade English...We could write it on The Lord of the Flies and Catcher In The Rye. I feel like those would’ve been your favorites.”

Mickey shrugged, “sure, whatever.”

“Cool. Stop by the house tomorrow morning?” he said.

Mickey shook his head, his mind already going to what he had to do in the morning. He had an early morning drop and a get-quick cash scheme he had to pull off with Mandy. 

Pops was off in South Bend doing a run with Iggy, so this was his time to shine and show everyone that he was the right replacement for Colin. Not just the temporary one until his eldest brother got out of prison. 

No, he’d been waiting for this since he realized how much power Colin had. He was ready for it and school wasn’t going to get in the way.

He needed that paper tonight.

“I need it today,” Mickey said and then mentally did the math, “I’ll tack on another $10.”

“Shit, okay,” Lip said. “But I need at least three hours with it.”

“Okay,” Mickey said. “I’ll wait.

“Suit yourself.” 

They continued walking together until they reached the point where Mickey usually would turn. But instead, he kept following them. The two brothers shared another look, but Mickey made a point to ignore it. 

He had never been to the Gallagher house. He knew where it was thanks to Frank owing Pops money and when Frank needed to buy some drugs before Pops swore never to sell to him again. Even then though, he’d never really been inside the house.

They came to North Wallace and the smart one turned to Mickey with hesitation. “You’re really going to wait for this shit?”

Mickey nodded, “got shit to do tomorrow.”

The smart one looked at Gallagher and then sighed. “Fine, Ian will watch you then.”

“Not a dog, man.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Afraid I’ll steal shit?”

“Got nothing to steal. More like, Frank might be home and shit can get a little weird when that happens.”

Mickey thumbed his nose in response cause he knew all about how fucking weird Frank could be. At one point, Frank used to frequent the Milkovich house quite a bit. His preference for drugs and hookers was well known around the neighborhood and Mickey’s house had those in abundance. 

Mickey remembered when he was about eight he brought a 12 or 13 year old girl with curly brown hair and big doe eyes with him. He later realized that it was Fiona, the oldest Gallagher. He never did understand what she had been doing there with Frank, but he’d watched through the keyhole on his door as she sat with Iggy and Colin and glared at any guy that gave her a lecherous look.

Mickey had felt badly for her.

Women in the Milkovich house didn’t last long.

Mandy was the only exception and nine times out of ten Mickey tried to pretend that the noises he heard from her room weren’t actually going on.

There was nothing he could do as much as he wanted to. He might be bigger than he was when Pops had started doing _that_ , but his father still had a good 20 pounds of muscle on him.

_One day, I’ll take him._

“Whatever, man. Got nothing else to do today. Already robbed all the kids of their lunch money,” Mickey joked.

He rolled his eyes while Gallagher smirked. At least one of them had a sense of humor.

“We can watch TV with Carl and Debbie. Got a load of math homework I gotta do.”

To cover up his discomfort of entering the house, he itched his eyebrow as they headed up the backstairs. It wasn’t as messy as his own house, but it was definitely lived in. They had come through the kitchen and two small kids sat at the table. One had a coloring book - the girl - and the other - the boy - was playing with a pile of pick up sticks.

“Carl, where the fuck did you get those?” Gallagher asked.

The little boy, Carl, grinned and shrugged. “Stole them off some kid at school.”

Mickey smiled at that, “nice going kid.”

Carl’s grin widened at his praise while his eldest brother glared at Mickey. 

“Ian, keep him away from Carl. We don’t want him getting any ideas.”

Gallagher mock saluted him, but led Mickey into the living room anyway. Mickey took in the decor - or lack thereof - of the house. On the mantel, he saw a smiling Gallagher with his arms wrapped around his older siblings. A loving look on all of their faces that would never be caught dead on the Milkovich siblings’ faces.

Mickey took note of the rundown furniture and the hole in the wall. He began to relax.

“You want anything? We’ve got water and _water_?” Gallagher asked sitting on the couch and flipping on the TV.

“I guess water.”

Gallagher nodded and tossed him the remote to go to the kitchen. Mickey looked at him for a moment before turning back to the TV, which was on some kid’s show. He began to flip the stations until he stopped on an old James Bond movie. He smiled slightly when he saw it was Sean Connery. 

His preferred James Bond.

Gallagher came back into the kitchen with two glasses of water and a bag of chips.

“Fiona stole them from her job,” he said unnecessarily putting the bag on the coffee table in front of them.

Mickey nodded and grabbed a handful. He began to watch as Bond seduced some woman.

“Why do you need this paper so bad anyway?” Gallagher asked, drawing his attention from the screen.

“You complaining about your brother making money?”

He shook his head, but continued to look at him with that wide eyed doe look. The one that his older sister had when she sat all curled up in a corner of the living room in his house when she wasn’t shooting glares at the fucked up men that circled her.

Mickey scowled and looked away. 

The memory floated away like a leaf in the wind.

He focused on the scuffed up coffee table that had stained rings from beverages on the surface. He thought of his own table at home with the 9mms and bullet casing scattered across the top of it. He doubted any of the Gallaghers had guns, which in his opinion was dumb as fuck when they lived on the South Side.

“Figured you didn’t care if you flunked,” he added when Mickey didn’t say anything.

Mickey grabbed his water and sipped it, wishing it was a beer.

“I just got off probation,” Mickey volunteered hoping that was enough of a reason for him.

“What does that--”

“Obviously, you’ve never been to juvie.”

“Obviously.”

Mickey finally looked at him straight on and glared, “I just need it okay. The teacher - I hate English.”

Gallagher smiled slightly and then gestured to the math homework in front of him. “I get it, I hate math.”

Mickey turned away so Gallagher wouldn’t see the tiny smile on his lips. He’d caught a glance at the homework and it was basic Algebra I. 

It wasn’t so hard.

“Math ain’t so bad. It’s all the same once you get comfortable with the numbers. English - there’s too much up for interpretation. Math is constant.”

He could feel Gallagher’s eyes on him, so he chose to sip more of his water and grab a handful of chips to shove in his mouth.

“You like math?” he asked.

Mickey shrugged and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Heat and discomfort swirled around his stomach at the unfamiliar question. No one had ever asked him whether he liked school or the subjects. No one had ever cared.

“I don’t like school,” he paused as he considered how to maintain his image while answering the question. “But math ain’t so bad,” he repeated his early sentiment.

Gallagher guffawed. “Wish I didn’t find it ‘so bad.’”

“Look, it’s all about looking for the patterns and understanding how things work. If you want--” Mickey stopped himself at the offer to help him with his math that was on the tip of his tongue. 

Gallagher looked at him expectantly, so Mickey continued.

“If you want to get _better at it,_ then just think of it in things that you understand. Like money. Or food or whatever,” Mickey finished trying to ignore how his voice had faltered out as he struggled to finish his thought.

Gallagher stared at him blankly then looked down at the coffee table with his homework spread out across it. Mickey took another handful of chips and focused on the movie.

“Do you wanna help me?” Gallagher asked after a long pause.

Mickey looked at him as if he was crazy and said, “absolutely not, Gallagher.”

Gallagher smirked suddenly and grabbed the bag of chips from the coffee table to put them in his lap. “I’m just having a hard time thinking that you like math and that you’re, like, good at it. Won’t believe it till I see it”

Mickey wasn’t sure what to think of the teasing note in his voice.

“Never said I was good at it.”

“I assume you are if you like it.”

Mickey grabbed the bag of chips from Gallagher’s lap - not missing the way he tensed up at the move - and grabbed another handful. He chewed loudly, ignoring Gallagher’s eyes on him.

“So?” Gallagher prompted.

Mickey tossed him back the bag, making sure to lean more into the arm of the couch to put more distance between them. A slow smile appeared on Gallagher’s face when he caught the chips.

“Can’t I just wait for this fucking paper in peace, man? Why do I gotta help you?”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.”

“Do I look like a nice person?”

Gallagher smiled widely, “do you want me to answer that?”

Mickey scowled at him and moved to grab the chips again, but Gallagher moved to stop him, putting a warm heavy hand on his shoulder. He could feel the heat through his thin t-shirt. Mickey wasn’t sure whether to pull away or lean closer. 

He noticed how green Gallagher’s eyes were then. How they were flecked with particles of blue that made them look so vibrant and alive.

Mickey’s heartbeat began to speed up as he took in those eyes he couldn’t decide were more blue or green.

“One problem. That’s it.”

Mickey looked back toward the movie - needing the distraction to pull him back to reality - and then at Gallagher who was waiting patiently for a response. He tried not to seem like he was eager to help, instead deepening his scowl and narrowing his eyes. He sniffed and thumbed at the area between his top lip and nose before he finally answered.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Gallagher grinned in triumph and scooted onto the floor to begin working on the first problem. He looked up at Mickey when he continued to sit on the couch and looked near to pouting. Patting the seat beside him, Mickey sighed and joined him. As he got down onto the floor beside him, Mickey ignored the way his knee rested against Gallagher’s, who didn’t move away as he expected. 

But then again, neither did Mickey.

* * *

Somehow they were on the fifth problem when the back door banged open and a female voice was heard from the kitchen. 

“That’s Fiona,” Gallagher said without looking up from where he was writing down the equation.

Mickey didn’t say anything in response, but instead watched as Gallagher wrote down numbers in his squarish handwriting. When he looked up, Mickey turned back to the movie, which was still on James Bond.

He had no idea what was going on.

“Who's your favorite?” Gallagher asked drawing his attention back to him.

“What?” 

“Your favorite Bond?” 

Mickey shrugged already knowing the answer, but not wanting to voice his opinion. For some reason, he felt a little nervous about giving too much of himself away to Gallagher. As if he’d see the real Mickey inside instead of the version he wanted people to think he was in their neighborhood.

He had a reputation to uphold.

“I like Connery. I think he’s--” Gallagher stuttered to a stop and blushed slightly before finishing in a mumble, “a good actor.”

Mickey stared at him for a moment as he ducked his head and the back of his neck got a little rosy. He turned back to the TV and for some reason he said, “yeah, me too.”

They heard Fiona banging around the kitchen and then she called out, “Ian!”

“Be right back,” he mumbled and then got up to go to the kitchen. Mickey stared after him for a moment and then looked back to the homework. 

He saw that he added instead of multiplied first in the equation and without thinking about how much he was helping Gallagher, he reached forward and began to correct his answer. His slightly more curly handwriting stood out in comparison to Gallagher’s, but he hoped he didn’t notice his correction. 

_Why was he even bothering to help?_

He should be back at home smoking joints and bagging up dime bags for Iggy to sell tomorrow after his shift at the Burger King. Instead, he was helping Gallagher with his homework instead of sitting back and enjoying the cable they had. 

He scowled at himself and grabbed another handful of chips to focus on something else rather than the warmth that was filling his belly at being in a home he didn’t have to feel afraid in.

When Gallagher came back, he asked if he was staying for dinner.

“Depends on the smart one,” Mickey said with a shrug.

In truth, he was fucking starving having skipped lunch per usual. He hadn’t eaten lunch since elementary school when he got the free meals cause he was dirt poor. 

Gallagher sat back down beside him and Mickey ignored the way his leg brushed and then pressed into his own. The heat of his body coming off in waves and drifting into Mickey’s. He wanted to move his leg away, create his own bubble of space, but he was cold and Gallagher was warm.

_Was he sitting closer than before?_

Mickey shifted in his seat, so his legs were stretched out in front of him. The rush of coldness wiggled its way into his body and caused him to miss the warmth. 

The gesture caused Gallagher to look at him for a moment too long, but Mickey kept his focus on the TV.

He still had no idea what was going on.

“Fiona! Mickey’s staying,” Gallagher called out. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey watched as he picked up his pencil and began to finish the problem. He tried to keep his eyes trained on the TV to avoid seeing whatever look was on Gallagher’s face when he realized that he helped him. 

Mickey doubted he’d notice anyway.

It was _one problem_ , so he hoped he didn’t make a big fucking deal about it.

Cause it _wasn’t_ a big deal, Mickey was just trying to pass the time till the smart one was finished with his paper.

“Thanks,” Gallagher said softly.

Mickey told himself he’d just look up and nod at him, but when he lifted his head, his eyes stayed glued to the open sincerity on Gallagher’s face. 

He hoped he didn’t look as sheepish as he was feeling. 

Gallagher was staring at him with an open softness no one had ever directed at Mickey before. A weird swooping sensation occurred in his stomach and his heartbeat began to pick up speed. He wanted to look away, but those sea foam green eyes had caught his own. 

Like one of Mickey’s clients who owed him money, he wasn’t able to get away from those bewitching orbs.

Mickey was right.

Gallagher would definitely see through him if he let him get much closer.

A clattering in the kitchen shattered the moment and Mickey went back to watching the movie, feeling shaken and hot all of a sudden.

He could hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, like a round of bullets going off in an abandoned building.

_Fuck, he better be done with his paper soon._

“Heard Colin’s in prison,” a voice behind them said. 

Mickey looked over and saw the oldest, Fiona, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She still had curly brown hair, those same doe eyes, but there was a hardness to her that hadn’t been there when she was 12. He’d seen her in the last eight years around the neighborhood, but they never made any attempt at talking.

Why would they? 

The only thing they had in common were shitty fathers and addicted mothers.

Same goes for all of the Gallaghers.

Mickey glanced at Gallagher who was staring at him again and then back to Fiona.

“Yeah, he’s away for awhile, I think. Unless they let him out cause of overcrowding,” Mickey said, ignoring the hot bubbles in his stomach as Gallagher’s eyes rested on his face while he spoke to his sister.

Fiona frowned, “I’m sorry.”

Mickey shrugged, “South Side, I guess.”

“Yeah…”

Mickey moved to turn back to the TV, but Fiona began to speak again.

“You and Ian studying?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gallagher slightly shaking his head and Mickey smirked at the assumption.

“Lip’s writing a paper for me.”

“You paying?”

“$80.”

Fiona smirked, “stay for dinner. I’m making mac n cheese.”

“Her mac n cheese is good too,” Gallagher added, his eyes still glued to him.

Mickey nodded, “yeah, I guess. Lip ain’t done with the paper yet.”

Fiona nodded in that way that solidified the entire exchange and then went back into the kitchen. When Mickey turned back to the movie, he saw Gallagher smirking in delight.

“What you fucking smirking at?” Mickey snapped. 

The twinkle in his eyes was causing him to feel pricklier than usual.

“Just knew you knew our names.”

“What the fuck ever, Gallagher.”

Gallagher didn’t stop smirking as he went back to his homework and Mickey vowed that the next time he made a mistake on the homework, he wasn’t going to help him.

Right before dinner, Gallagher asked him if he subtracted or divided x and reluctantly Mickey told him.

But that wasn’t helping. 

That was just cause Mickey was bored.

* * *

Mickey had never actually had a family dinner. He ate when he was hungry and that was about it. Sometimes his siblings joined him. A few times he ate with hookers that had been over for his dad. Occasionally, he ate with his father. Once, a long time ago, he remembered sitting down with his mother and eating dinner with her.

But that was pretty much it.

So sitting down with the Gallaghers for a meal of mac n cheese was pretty much as foreign as things could get for Mickey. 

Fiona dished out mostly even helpings of mac n cheese for everyone, except for the baby who Mickey learned was named Liam. He couldn’t have been much more than a few months old, but he was very quiet and sat in Fiona’s lap all through dinner as she fed him a bottle.

The two younger kids, the redheaded girl and the boy who had stolen the pick-up sticks were stealing bites of food off each other’s plates until Fiona told them to stop. Gallagher sat quietly beside him, the only one who had bothered to make room for him at the table. He was shoved between him and the younger boy who kept accidentally elbowing him as he tried to get food off his sister’s plate.

Gallagher gave him a sheepish look and moved over a little more closer to Lip to give him more space. Mickey scooted over. His leg accidentally rubbed against Gallagher’s, who out of the corner of his eye, he saw turn a little rosy in the cheeks. Mickey bit the corner of his lip and looked back at his half eaten plate.

“The mac n cheese is good,” he grunted out to Fiona who was bouncing Liam and talking to Lip about bills.

She grinned at him, “thanks. It’s all in the cheese.”

“Mickey, I just need to edit your paper and then you can get out of here. Sure, you’ve got kids to shake down for money,” the smart one said smirking over a beer at him.

Mickey scoffed, “whatever, faggot, just finish the paper. I don’t got all day.”

If he hadn’t ducked down then for another forkful of cheesy noodles, he would’ve missed the way Gallagher’s hand resting on the table flexed a few times. 

The cacophony around them escalated, but Mickey noticed that Gallagher didn’t join in. His two older siblings were in a deep conversation and the two little ones were back to fighting, but this time verbally.

Instead, he focused on eating, his gaze down on his plate. His speed of finishing off the plate increasing. 

Mickey tried not to watch him out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t help himself. The focus he had despite the noise around them. How he seemed so far apart from his family, even though they were all there. How he just wanted to get out of there, if the speed of how he was eating was any indication. Everyone seemed to continue their lives around him, as if he didn’t even have to be there.

Mickey could relate to that.

He always felt like the outsider.

He wondered if that’s how Gallagher felt too.

After dinner, Mickey helped to clear the table and then went back to the living room with Gallagher. They took a seat on the couch this time and Mickey noticed that Gallagher was sitting as far away from him as he could. 

“You guys always eat dinner together?” Mickey blurted out.

A question that had been on his mind.

Gallagher looked over at him in surprise and then nodded, “yeah. Mostly. Do you guys eat dinner together?”

Mickey snorted and shook his head. He grabbed the can of beer Lip had given him off the table and took a sip.

“No.”

When he put the beer back down, Gallagher was staring at him with curiosity. It reminded him of the time he’d run into the Gallaghers with his family at the Kash N Grab and Gallagher had been looking at him as if he _saw_ him.

It unnerved him.

“Want a cigarette?” he asked, taking a pack from his pocket and offering Mickey one. 

He nodded and took the offered stick, disliking the warmth that spread through him as their fingers grazed one another. When he looked up, Gallagher was looking at him with those green eyes.

The curiosity had solidified, Mickey could see it on his face.

His eyes were so clear and sincere, it threw Mickey off to see the openness in them. They were glued right on him, with no fear there. Something that seldom occurred as a Milkovich.

Everyone was afraid of them.

From bartenders to police officers.

No one had anything to give a Milkovich but fear.

Not Gallagher.

He looked like he had when Mickey had explained to him what he was doing wrong on the homework. Absorbing it, showing his interest, and asking questions, as if he were memorizing it for the future. 

As if he was actually interested in figuring it out.

As if he wanted to unpack the problem and understand how it worked. 

He wasn’t sure why the look was making him feel jittery.

Mickey leaned back and lit the cigarette with the Zippo in his pocket. Throwing it to Gallagher, he had no desire to touch those soft pale fingers again.

Gallagher caught it and lit his own cigarette before tossing it back. He held his gaze until

Mickey looked down to pocket the lighter. When he glanced up, he was focused on the television and Mickey wondered if he had imagined the look in his eyes.

The soft, sincerity.

The openness that no one granted him due to his last name.

He looked out of the corner of his eye to watch Gallagher paying attention to the TV. The Bond movie was ending, which meant that there was life saving and action packed scenes. Of course, the last scene was Bond getting the girl.

Mickey observed Gallagher as he watched the last scene of the movie. How his eyes widened, his nose wrinkled, and then his lips turning into a tiny frown. As if he were let down by what had happened.

As the credits rolled on the screen, Mickey wondered what he was thinking.

“Wanna--” Gallagher began, but the smart one came barreling down the stairs with a small USB stick in his hand.

“What’s this?” Mickey asked as he came to stand beside the couch.

“Your paper. Swear it’s on there, but we don’t got a printer here. So go to school tomorrow and use the library--”

“You swear it’s on there?”

“Just said that didn’t I?” he snarked.

Mickey looked over at Gallagher who was watching the exchange with the same little frown he’d had on his lips during the last moments of the Bond movie. Turning back to the smartass, he handed him four crumbled $20s and took the USB stick from him.

“If it’s not on here--”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll crush my bones to make some bread. Got it, Rambo. See you later,” he said flopping down beside Gallagher on the couch.

Mickey began to get up and gather his things as he prepared to leave. He heard him ask Gallagher, “You need help with your homework?”

He said, “no I got it.”

Glancing over at the two brothers, Mickey was surprised to see Gallagher gazing at him with a strange twinkle in his eye. But then he lowered his head and grabbed for the remote, changing the channel to some show on Animal Planet. 

Grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he pocketed the USB and made his way toward the door.

“Bye, Mick!” Gallagher's lone voice rattled around in his head as he descended from the house and began to walk the short way home.

When he thought back to that odd twinkle in Gallagher’s eye, he tried to figure out what exactly it meant, if anything. 

The closer he got to his house, the more he decided he was just imagining it. 

That night he dug out the stolen magazine with the copper haired guy in it and touched himself as his mind conjured up the image of Gallagher sitting beside him, his green eyes trained right on him.

Seeing right through his bullshit to the rotten thing inside.

It was the first time he began to experiment with what he liked. 


	4. Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey goes after Ian Gallagher for revenge on Mandy and realizes some things in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks so much to everyone who is reading and commenting and kudoing! You guys are fantastic and I'm so glad that you've been enjoying this story. I've really loved diving in Mickey's head. (Part 2 will be all Ian's POV) We have one more chapter to go, which should be up before next Friday. (I have some 1x06/07 rewatching to do to make sure the end is close to canon).
> 
> We have finally reached canon! I wanted to make this story as close to canon as I could. Obviously, we don't know what really happened to Laura Milkovich (the inconsistencies!) so I had to kinda get creative. But that's the only non-canon (hopefully) attribute of the story. I tried to fit it in, but I just couldn't make it work so I'm going with my head canon that she died when they were young.
> 
> For warnings in this chapter: lots of homophobic language, and Terry being a creep (hints to Mandy's rape). 
> 
> I did have some difficulties with this chapter, so I hope it's okay and you guys enjoy it! Please comment if you'd like.

Charcoal clouds hung thickly in the sky, but Mickey could still make out the flock of birds that were headed south for the winter.

They were probably one of the last flocks to migrate, both for the day and during the season since they were already well into cold weather.

Mickey liked them a little more for being such late bloomers.

He placed the pre-rolled joint between his lips and covered it from the wind as he lit it, inhaling deeply as he relaxed into the roof beneath him. He laid on his back and stared up at the darkening sky. Nightfall was quickly taking over Chicago. 

As twilight steadily grew thicker and inker around him, his mind drifted back to the events of the last week.

Uncle Ronnie’s request for him to start coming along on runs, like what Colin used to do before he spent time in prison. Pops was currently in prison for...robbery? Or was it arson for burning down that community center for fags and dykes? Or maybe it was cause he was caught with some horse while on parole?

Mickey couldn’t remember anymore.

But he knew he was getting out soon, which probably made  _ him _ more nervous than it made the neighborhood.

That meant they had to step up their game in slinging drugs and stolen items so Pops didn’t throw a fit when he was finally released.

For the time being, Uncle Ronnie and Macy (his current hooker wife) were pretending to be their caregivers to keep them out of a foster home.

Mostly cause Pops was intent on keeping the drugs and stolen goods flowing to avoid the house getting taken and to afford cigs and shit in prison.

He knew it wasn’t from the goodness of his black heart that he wanted to keep them out of a foster home. He was just too greedy to let the ‘family business’ dry up while he was locked away.

Mickey liked that Uncle Ronnie and Macy weren’t ever around. Therefore, he was able to do whatever he wanted without worrying about Pops catching him.

They had concocted some bullshit story about Terry giving over his rights to Uncle Ronnie while he was put away. Mickey didn’t know how anyone could believe that shit when Uncle Ronnie looked three cigarettes away from death. 

They’d threatened someone who created fake documentation who had to blackmail someone else to get it notarized, sat through some meetings, and called it a day. 

The whole thing had taken forever to come up with, but the social worker was so busy all she cared about was doing the least amount of her job that she could get away with.

But it still felt weird to pretend to be some family when they were clearly not. He felt his stomach roll, much as it seemed to do, everytime he pretended to be something he wasn’t.

Then there was Mandy’s sudden good mood that caused her to  _ make fucking cookies _ on a whim. Like fucking Martha Stewart or some shit. 

Mickey had come home to find her humming under her breath and drawing pictures of wedding dresses with the initials AM + IG all over a piece of paper. For some reason, it made him want to rip it up. But instead, he’d taken three of the hot cookies and locked himself in his room.

The strangest part of his week had been when fucking Colin told him he should help Pops out more, that he was  _ doing better than I thought you would.  _ It was strange to hear those words from his eldest brother who he had forever thought didn’t give two shits about him. And now he was basically paying him compliments cause he’d become in charge of the ‘family business.’

Mickey didn’t feel like he was doing well at anything, though.

In fact, he felt like he was drowning.

Sometimes when Mickey was feeling particularly small and inconsequential, he’d trek to the rows of abandoned buildings on the South Side, needing the time away and alone from the chaos of his house. The buildings must have been factories or something, but now they were dilapidated and empty. It was a nice place to hang out once he learned where not to step to avoid falling through the unsturdy floors. 

Overtime, he’d figured out which buildings were the safest, and those became his favorites. With only the animals to keep him company, Mickey welcomed the silence that wrapped around him like a blanket. 

He spent a lot of time here after Iggy went away to juvie and Mandy had started spending more time at random guys houses than at home. 

He’d lay on the roof of the abandoned building and stare up to watch the planes, clouds, birds, whatever was in the sky. He’d generally bring beers or blunts to occupy his time and just sit up there wasting his days or nights. Once or twice he’d sleep there when he was too afraid to go home and face Pops. 

Sometimes, he’d pretend that he was the only person left in the world. This was his own little oasis. The place he trusted would keep him safe from outside forces. 

On this particularly grey day, he smoked a joint and watched as the planes from O’Hare went up, up, and away from here. He pretended that he was looking down on all of the bullshit that was taking place on earth.

Would all of the shit in his life actually matter if he had a chance to look down on the world from a perch above?

He didn’t think so. 

Once he had the world in perspective, he didn’t think anything would bother him again. At least the issues with his father would seem - well, they’d  _ disappear _ . 

The older he got, the more he tried to go above and beyond to make his father happy. Whatever Pops asked him to do, Mickey tried to achieve it. If Pops asked him to go on runs now, Mickey knew he’d ask ‘when?’

That didn’t sit right with him. 

A few weeks before he went back into the slammer, Pops had gone with him to Skokie since there was a change in the drug order with Uncle Richie. After the deal, the three of them had gone to a bar. Pops wanted to play pool so they had gone over to the table to play, leaving Mickey alone at the bar. They’d only been there for an hour when Pops was breaking a pool stick on the table and threatening some guy with it. After being kicked out, they were on the way home when Pops began to bitch about what happened.

“Fucking cock sucker. Fucking thinks he can cheat me,” Terry ranted. He turned to Mickey then and added, “you know he was a fucking fag, right?  _ Real men don’t cheat. _ He was a fucking fag. Going to fucking kill him the next time I see that shirt lifter.”

_ Real men. _

Those two words had been knocking around his head. He wasn’t sure what constituted a  _ real man _ , but he did know that he was feeling less and less like one.

Especially when he would dig out that old magazine he’s stolen from Mandy.

Something he’d found himself doing a lot more with Pops in prison.

After he’d finish sometimes, a swell and dip of anger would occur in his belly. It only seemed to be increasing the closer that Pop’s release date came. The rage had caused a need inside of him to get out of the house and seek some relief.

That’s why he spent so much time in these buildings.

He found himself in this position more and more as of late.

A restlessness settled in his bones and caused him to fight a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Sometimes he’d try to come up with ways to get rid of it.

All it did was sit there like a wet glob of toilet paper on a wall.

He’d try to smoke it away - with multiple different substances.

He’d try to drink it away - he always had a hangover that was worse than the time before.

He’d tried sleeping with chicks - he never could quite get over that feeling of discomfort and disgust when he got dressed afterwards.

Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, he’d consider heading to Boystown and seeing if he could--

But he wasn’t like that.

That wasn’t the answer to his problems.

That  _ couldn’t _ be an answer to his problems. 

One day he’d wake up and fly away to somewhere, so he didn’t have to be Mickey Milkovich Resident South Side Thug. 

What would anonymity be like?

But as much as he wanted to  _ be just like everyone else _ , he also knew that running away wasn’t in his blood. He was never going to fly away in some tin tube of a plane. Not only did he not have the money for a ticket to Anywhere But Here, USA, he knew that no matter where he went, he’d still feel like he didn’t belong.

Blowing smoke out of his mouth, he watched a plane with its lights flashing high above fly further and further away from here. 

He wished he’d spent more time out here to see the flocks of birds overhead. He loved seeing how they moved together, as if they were one large unit.

Those were his favorites to watch. They were always in such perfect formation. They always knew where they were going. There was no mistaking their path. They always belonged.

He remembered when he was little he had a fascination with birds. The flight patterns, the colors, the sounds. He loved how they could just pick up and leave without having to worry about anything.

And they always moved in a group. 

Like each bird had their specific job. 

He’d stolen a book from the library about North American birds in the midst of his obsession. He had read that motherfucker until the pages became worn and the binding split. Well,  _ read _ may have been a stretch - he liked the pictures. The colors of the birds. How free they were to just be themselves. 

He had trouble reading then. 

No one had the patience or desire to teach him.

It was only when he went away to his first foster home did he get the attention he needed to learn the vowels and why ‘ch’ made too many different sounds.

But that was the one and only foster home he’d enjoyed. 

And it was short lived once Laura had played her whole ‘I was a teen mom with no support’ routine to get them back. Mickey remembered the foster mother had cried when he went away. He was always confused why someone would get so attached to a person they knew would hurt them.

But no matter how much his life changed, even back then, he knew he could look into the sky and spy the birds flying their different flight patterns to their own salvation.

He remembered feeling envious.

If he was honest, he still was.

His favorite had been the falcons. Fast, small, and predatory, he loved that they used their teeth instead of their feet to pick up their prey. They could take care of themselves. They could move so swiftly too, as if their size didn’t matter.

Mickey had liked that, since he’d always been on the short side. 

As a kid, he remembered wishing that he could disappear like a falcon, especially when Colin was being his typical asshole self. He’d thought that the answer to all of his problems was to be better than Colin. To have the power he knew his brother craved. If Pops liked him better than Colin or saw more potential in him or whatever, then he’d never have to deal with his older brother’s bullshit.

If only he could show his family what he could do, then he’d be able to be free. Once he showed them all what he could do, he’d be able to do whatever he liked. He wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else’s bullshit anymore. He’d be able to make his own decisions. 

But even after Colin got out of prison and Iggy went in and he had to make all the decisions, he didn’t ever feel that rush of power - or belonging. That rush of being in charge that he thought he would have once he showed Colin that he was the one Pops could rely on. He thought that Colin would even try to fight him for it, but when he got out of prison, he was like a different person.

He was quieter.

Less inclined to speak up.

He was still a shithead, but something had changed in his brother and he no longer was the big man on campus. 

Mickey wanted to ask if something had happened in there, but he didn’t want to hear the answer if it did.

The end of his joint began to burn his fingers. He stabbed out the remains of it and slowly sat up, feeling the cold of the winter settling in his bones. He was ready - physically - to head back home, but the idea of going back there where it was so loud and overwhelming - he wanted to stay outside a bit longer.

Since Iggy had gone away, Mickey had been hanging out with his cousins more. Mostly because they listened to him and helped with whatever idea he concocted. Colin mostly was off doing his own thing. Mickey thought he’d actually gotten a real job, but he hadn’t bothered to ask. 

Did most people have relationships like he did with his brothers or were they more like the Gallaghers?

_ Probably like the Gallaghers. _

_ But less poor. _

Slowly standing up, Mickey took one last glance at the charcoal sky and began to make his way home, each step causing him to feel less and less in control of his own future. 

He took twice as long to get home as he normally would. It was a deep inky black outside when he finally made it through the threshold.

When he walked in, he was surprised to find Mandy sitting at the table surrounded by Jamie and Joey. Colin was leaning against the fridge taking in the scene in a kind of detached fashion. 

“What’s up?” he asked, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge after shoving Colin away.

“Ian Gallagher,” Mandy wailed.

The name sent Mickey’ stomach dropping down and bouncing back up. He chose to pop open the beer can, keeping his focus on the top so that no one would see if his face did anything weird at hearing the name.

Not that it would do anything weird.

Ian Gallagher was just like every other dipshit in this neighborhood.

Mickey didn’t give a fuck about him.

In fact, he tried to go out of his way to avoid the Gallaghers. He didn’t like the way he felt around the redhead.

Like he was one second away from slipping up.

“What about him?” Mickey asked, sipping his beer and making a concentrated effort to keep a frown on his lips. He took another sip as Mandy and Colin’s eyes turned to him.

“He attacked me.”

Mickey had to stop himself from spitting out the beer in his mouth at hearing those three words. He looked over at Jamie, Joey, and Colin who had identical expressions of fury on their faces. He waited to feel his own anger at her words overtake him, but nothing came. Instead a tiny nagging sensation occurred in his brain as the rational side took over. 

_ What bullshit was Mandy on now? _

He had a hard time seeing that skinny, dopey faced freckly ginger kid attacking his sister who could brawl with the best of them. Mickey remembered when they were in middle school Mandy had come home with a bloody lip. When Mickey and Iggy demanded to know what happened, she reluctantly told them she’d gotten into a fight with some girl at school. When Iggy and Mickey decided to go find the girl who did that to their sister, they found her walking with crutches and a patch over her eye.

Yeah, Mandy might be skinny, but she was a Milkovich and she didn’t take shit from anyone.

Ian Gallagher might not be a bitch, but Mickey had a hard time seeing him hit a girl when his sister was as vicious as a lion.

But even if he took his sister out of the equation, he couldn’t see Ian hit  _ anyone. _

Man or woman.

Girl or boy.

He seemed more like someone who would kiss a wound to make it feel better or call the police when something terrible happened.

_ The knight in shining armor. _

Not that Mickey thought about Ian Gallagher at all or who he kissed or whatever.

“He attacked you?” Mickey asked, trying to keep the note of disbelief out of his voice. He wanted to believe his sister, but there was just something...he couldn’t see it.

She wailed in response and buried her head in her arms. Mickey frowned at her and then turned to his cousins and brother. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Joey, Jamie, and Colin all looked at him with identical expressions of fury, but they didn’t answer his question.

It was almost 11 o’clock at night. 

He was ready to go to bed. 

He wasn’t in the mood to hear about how Ian Gallagher attacked his sister - something he wasn’t sure  _ actually happened _ . He just couldn’t see the dopey smile on Ian Gallagher’s face twisted into some deep seeded desire to get in his sister’s pants. 

He’d never even seen Ian Gallagher with a girl.

Why would he suddenly attack Mandy?

Was he high or drunk?

Had she said something to him?

Mickey couldn’t see it.

Not when the only females he’d ever seen him with were his sisters. 

Mickey frowned as he searched his memories of Ian Gallagher with a female. He pocketed that tidbit of a realization away for later.

“So?” he prompted when the kitchen continued to be silent besides Mandy's wails. His relatives continued to look at him, crack their knuckles, and cast frustrated looks at Mandy. But no one said anything.

The more he tried to envision Ian Gallagher hurting his sister. The more he found the idea to be ridiculous. He just didn’t seem like the type. He seemed more like the type to run away from conflict instead of running toward it. 

If anything, he probably told her he wasn’t interested and his sister wasn’t having it.

But a tiny voice in the back of his head pointed out that people were capable of anything.

He should know that.

“He tried to rape me!” she screamed from her position.

The words caused an icy cold sensation to drip down his back. He still couldn’t see Ian Gallagher forcing himself on his sister, but the words caused his mind to bring to life the noises he heard from his sister’s room when their father made his way in there after too much to drink.

“He hurt me!” she cried out and the words reverberated through his body.

He clenched his teeth as images of his sister and Ian Gallagher filled his head. But as his imagination began to run wild and well up like a beer being poured into a glass, a thought flitted across his head.

_ Why was Ian Gallagher going after Mandy? _

_ Was Mandy his type? _

An odd heat - one he’d felt after seeing kids with toys he wanted or parents who hugged their children - filled his belly as he thought about Ian and Mandy being together. He couldn’t see Ian forcing himself on his sister. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. Just like he didn’t see his father --

But Mickey stopped that thought before it could fully form. 

What he did focus on was the fact that he’d always been too small to do anything about their father, but Ian Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher, he could handle.

He was scrawny and Mickey’s size.

Mickey could take him, especially if he was riding the high of anger at knowing what his father did to Mandy and that Ian could do the same thing.

It probably helped that in his mind’s eye images of Ian and Mandy dating...

It left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Like the aftertaste of vomit from drinking too much.

Visuals of them sitting in their living room cuddling or laughing together floated around his head until Joey spoke up and interrupted his downward spiral of anger and - and--

“We gotta show that motherfucker a lesson.” He looked at Mickey who began to nod, his mind a mess of depictions of Ian and Mandy  _ together _ and the things he knew his father had done.

He might not be able to do anything about Terry, but he could take care of Ian. 

Ian Gallagher was a dead man.

“Yeah, we’ll get him for you, Mandy,” Jamie jumped in.

She wailed again and finally looked up at them, her makeup running down her face in twin streaks. Mickey looked at her red eyes, the black rivers on her face, and her wide eyes staring directly at him. 

“You’ll get him for me, Mick?” she asked, her bottom lip wobbling.

Mickey could barely hear her question over the phantom sounds of what went on behind his sister’s door. The screams and the cries that made Mickey cover his ears with two pillows. The black eye his sister carried the next morning. The barely there expression on her face when they ate breakfast. How he couldn’t even look at her knowing he’d failed her as a brother.

A churning began in his stomach as he thought about how he’d never been able to save his sister before. 

Pops was always bigger than him and if the lack of a growth spurt was any indication, would always be bigger than him.

Mickey was nodding before he even realized that he’d moved. 

His eyes trained on Mandy’s. 

He remembered how she used to be as a child when their electricity had been turned off and she’d be afraid of the dark. She’d sneak into his room, her cold feet pressed against his own, and tell him she was scared. Her eyes trained on him like they were now and her bottom lip wobbling as if she was afraid he’d turn her away. All he’d do was shrug like it was no big deal and tell her to go to sleep. He was looking out for her.

“Yeah, Mandy, we’ll get him for you,” he heard himself say.

She gave him a shadow of a smile before standing up and heading to her room. At once, Joey, Jamie, and Colin began talking. Mickey didn’t hear anything they said. His head was filled with the ghost of the screams that came out of Mandy’s room when Pops was home. 

The memories fueled the fire in his belly and by the time the next day came around he was ready to smash Ian Gallagher’s face in.

* * *

It was disheartening to sit outside the Gallagher household and wait for Firecrotch to come face the music. 

Mickey had imagined that he’d come out guns-a-blazin. 

And yet, he hid from him.

Like everyone else.

He was disappointed at not being able to lay his hands on Gallagher - in a violent manner, of course. 

If he was being honest, he’d been looking forward to fighting him. 

He wanted to see what he was made of. 

After noticing him strutting around the neighborhood in that dumbass army outfit, he figured he probably had  _ something _ in him. 

Something violent and dirty, like Mickey.

But as he continued to run away from him again and again, he felt a  _ little bit _ let down. 

He thought he had bigger balls than that; he wasn’t as afraid of Mickey as everyone else.

Turns out Mickey had been wrong.

He imagined Gallagher would face him. Courage twisting up his features. Gallagher would try to punch him before Mickey wrestled him to the ground. Mickey would hold him down with his hands and knees. He’d cradle him between his thighs as he took in the terrified look on Gallagher’s face - he already knew what it would look like. Pinning him down victoriously, he’d give him a wide grin from above. 

A winning grin.

_ What a fucking waste. _

It was colder than it had been this evening.

Everytime Mickey looked up at the bedroom that he most definitely saw the two Gallagher brothers in, he was reminded  _ yet again _ of how he’d overestimated him. 

He figured Gallagher would at least put up a fight, but instead he  _ ran _ .

Gallagher was better than that pussy shit. 

_ Gallagher was supposed to be different. _

It had been sometime since he’d yelled up to them and as much as he wanted to break through the door, he knew Fiona would be standing on the other side with some weapon. Probably the bat he’d seen - the one and only time he’d been inside the house - hanging near the stairs.

He had no desire to get his legs broken by Fiona Gallagher just so he could beat on Firecrotch.

In all honesty, at this point, he was ready to call it quits anyway. It was late, cold, and he was tired. But he’d told Mandy they would get Gallagher and now he couldn’t go home empty handed. He had to tell her that they at least punched the fucker in the face. 

He had a reputation to uphold.

But what he kept coming back to was how he’d  _ overestimated _ Gallagher.

He really thought he’d stand up to him.

In the past, he’d seen something in him that showed Mickey he wasn’t a coward. 

He was supposed to be on Mickey’s level. 

But the fact that he continued hiding behind his towelhead boss, his brother, and now in his house, he realized that  _ Gallagher was just like everyone else _ . He had expected more from him, but he was just some fucking priss who needed other people to fight his battles for him.

He was disappointed.

Probably more than disappointed.

He was looking forward to a good fight.

“We wanna go home, Mick,” Joey whined.

Mickey looked toward his cousins who were shivering in the cold winter air. 

He frowned as he debated what he should do. They could go home, get high, and drunk or wait for Gallagher to show his face. 

Which was becoming less and less likely.

Mickey was more inclined to wait out Gallagher, but they were looking at him with frustration. 

“Fine,” Mickey said and gestured in the direction of their house, “you go.” 

Jamie and Joey didn’t need to be told twice before they were headed back to the Milkovich house. Mickey watched them leave before he turned his attention back up to the bedroom. He saw a swish of the shades and then the lights in the room went off. 

_ Should I leave too? _

After waiting another few minutes and smoking a cigarette, he decided that he was wasting his time here.

Ian Gallagher was nothing but a wuss and Mickey would come back tomorrow to make him deal with the consequences of his actions.

_ Even though I don’t think he did anything. _

He threw his last cigarette to the ground. Grinded it into the cement and pretended that it was Ian Gallagher’s head before he started walking home.

He tried to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach, but even after a joint and two beers, he could still feel it looming.

Much like he suspected Ian Gallagher was behind that shade in his bedroom.

* * *

For most of the night, he sat by his window chain smoking cigarettes and coming up with a plan to corner Gallagher. He’d thought he’d need his cousins with him to beat him up, but he thought he could take the dopey faced fuck by himself.

He’d rather deal with him by himself, if he was being honest.

Joey and Jamie would just get in the way.

He wanted Ian Gallagher all to himself.

He fell asleep flipping through the old magazine he’d stolen from Mandy, making sure to jerk it to a different guy than the copper haired one. 

* * *

“Get away from me, you fucking perv!” 

Mandy’s shrieks jerked Mickey awake the next morning. He jumped up and grabbed the glock he kept in his bedside table and then began to pull on his discarded pair of jeans. Next, he looked around for a semi-clean shirt and his heavy winter coat. 

He heard her say ‘Ian Gallagher’ and something about being dead, which made him move faster.

He couldn’t let Firecrotch slip away again.

He rubbed at his eyes with his empty hand, trying to shake the sleep away. Heading toward the door to get outside before he was given the slip again, he heard Ian Gallagher’s voice plain as day as if he were standing right next to him.

“I’m gay.”

The two words rattled around Mickey’s head. Ricocheting off the walls of his brain like a stray bullet.

_ What the fuck? _

It took Mickey a moment to realize why he could hear those two words so clearly - like he was speaking to him.

Telling him all his secrets.

He’d left the window cracked last night to chain smoke his cigarettes. 

Slowly moving to the window, Mickey looked out of the cloudy glass and saw Mandy and Gallagher standing in front of each other talking in much lower voices.

He heard his sister say, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

Gallagher didn’t need to be told twice before the two of them began to walk further away from the house.

But the further they walked away, the louder those two words seemed to grow in Mickey’s head. He sat down heavily on the bed, the glock settling on his pillow as his brain began to move at warp speed.

_ Gallagher was gay. _

But what exactly did that mean?

Was he - was he--

If Gallagher was  _ gay _ ,  _ he could easily be killed in this neighborhood _ .

If someone else had heard his loud announcement,  _ he could be killed in this neighborhood _ .

If he went around telling people that,  _ he could be killed in this neighborhood _ .

“Idiot,” Mickey scoffed.

What kind of moron yelled that out anyway?

Was he not afraid of what could happen to him?

Did he not give a shit about his own wellbeing?

_ What the fuck was wrong with him? _

Mickey didn’t understand why he’d even tell his sister. What was the point in spreading his own personal shit all over the neighborhood so he could be murdered?

Did the guy have no self-preservation?

Mickey was starting to think he didn’t.

A tiny voice in the back of his brain pointed out that he  _ knew _ Mandy had been lying when she said he attacked her. 

He knew even though Gallagher might be an idiot who didn’t know how to protect himself in his own neighborhood,  _ he didn’t go around attacking girls to get his dick wet. _

_ That’s why I haven’t never seen him with any girls. _

An odd bubble of something warm and gooey began to form in his stomach and Mickey swiped at his upper lip in an attempt to distract himself from the sudden edginess he was feeling. 

He stood up and began to walk around his room, moving random objects just to distract the wheels moving at light speed in his brain.

Mickey had to give him some credit. 

If a girl had sicced her brothers on him cause he wouldn’t sleep with her - which is what he was gathering from the situation after eavesdropping on the conversation - he would’ve just done it to get everyone off his back.

But then again he wasn’t - he didn’t think of -  _ he wasn’t like Ian Gallagher. _

If he was in his shoes - well, Mickey cut that thought off before it could spiral out of control. He might have his personal  _ preferences _ , but he wasn’t - he didn’t--

_ He wasn’t like that. _

Mickey picked up his almost empty pack of cigarettes and stuck one between his lips to light it. 

He didn’t have to worry about the same things as Ian Gallagher. 

He didn’t have to consider the consequences of yelling his  _ preferences _ loud enough for the neighborhood to hear either. If he wanted to get himself killed, that wasn’t Mickey’s problem.

He smoked through the disappointment of not taking on Gallagher. He wasn’t going to attack the guy now that he knew what he - what he was. 

No, his next plan would be to corner Mandy. When she got home, he’d find out what else Ian Gallagher was hiding. Now that he knew that secret - and so did his sister - he figured he could learn more about Gallagher. 

Strictly to mess with him, of course.

If he couldn’t beat him up - well, he could still if he wanted to - he could at least fuck with him.

He wondered if he could get her to break and tell him the secret Gallagher had just told her.

Mandy had never been good at keeping secrets, so whatever they were giggling over, Mickey would find out.

That way he wouldn’t have to admit that he was listening to them.

He smirked to himself as he thought of how fun it was going to be to see how far he could push Ian Gallagher.

* * *

Mandy got home sometime around 5. 

5:06 if Mickey was being accurate.

Not that he was looking at the clock or anything.

He heard her loud boots against the old floorboards; a telltale sign that she had arrived. When the front door slammed, he was up and across his room ready to corner her. He walked the few feet to her bedroom and knocked loudly on the thick planes of wood. 

“What?” she yelled.

“Wanna talk?” Mickey asked, making sure his voice carried through the bedroom door. 

Mandy’s face appeared a moment later, her usual scowl resting on her lips. Mickey pushed past her and into her room. He made sure not to look at the images of half naked men that were on her wall.

“What do you want?” she snarled.

He turned to face her, “Ian Gallagher.”

He watched as her face paled a little and her eyes began to dart around the room. “What about him?”

Mickey debated with himself for a moment what he could say to push his sister’s buttons. “Still haven’t caught him.”

She sniffed and moved toward her bed to sit down. “Yeah, well, how’s that my problem? I told you he worked at the Kash N Grab.”

Mickey didn’t tell her that he didn’t need her to tell him that. He already knew where Ian Gallagher worked.

He raised an eyebrow at her and took a deep breath in ready to start his needling.

“Well--”

“I mean, you don’t have to beat him up, Mickey. I think - it would be best if you didn’t go around beating up my boyfriend.” Her voice grew stronger and more resolute with each word she spoke outloud.

He stared at her blankly. The word  _ boyfriend _ not penetrating through his skull. Whose boyfriend was she talking about? How many guys did Mandy want him to beat up? He didn’t mind standing up for his sister, but he still had other shit to do. 

“What?”

She rolled her eyes impatiently and absentmindedly began to play with the string on top of the comforter on her bed. 

“He’s my boyfriend now. So until he breaks my heart, you don’t have to beat him up.”

“Your  _ boyfriend _ ?”

“Yep. He asked me out today. So forget about all that stuff I said yesterday.”

“But--”

“It was just a misunderstanding. He wanted to date and I thought he meant that he didn’t want to fuck,” she continued on.

He frowned deeper at her words, not sure if he was hearing her correctly. Since when was Ian Gallagher into girls? Wasn’t he  _ gay?  _ And why would he pick his sister? There was nothing wrong with her, but if he was so  _ out and proud  _ or whatever, wouldn’t he want to like  _ be with a guy _ ? Someone with a big cock, who had a nice body, and who he could talk to about shit? Someone who  _ got him?  _

“So Gallagher, who you wanted us to beat up yesterday, is now your  _ boyfriend _ ?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want us to beat the shit out of him anymore?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s your  _ boyfriend _ now?”

“I already said yes, Mick. Jesus. Now can you leave? I have shit to do.”

Mickey frowned, “Mandy, you were crying over him yesterday.”

“So?” 

“And you said he messed with you.”

“I know what I said.”

“So you can see how this is a little--”

“I already told you! It was a misunderstanding.”

Mickey scowled, “A misunderstanding. What the fuck. Either he messed with you or he didn’t. Did you fucking lie or something?”

She wore a matching scowl. Mickey could see how people always assumed she was scarier than she was.

Mickey knew her though. She may have a big bark, but her bite was small. 

“I didn’t  _ lie _ . Exactly.”

“Well, then tell me the fucking truth,” Mickey demanded wanting to hear it from her lips, despite already knowing why she had called them off. But now he just wanted clarification for the situation. He wanted to understand what was going on.

He wanted it confirmed. He knew what he heard. He knew it wasn’t some daydream he may have had from smoking too much pot and drinking too much the day before.

Not that he thought of Ian Gallagher that way.

He didn’t give a shit if he was  _ gay.  _

Mickey just wanted his sister to admit she’d lied.

And then he wanted to mess with Gallagher because - well, it would be  _ fun _ .

“I told you. I thought he just wanted to sleep with me, but he really wants to be my boyfriend.” 

Mickey stared at her blankly. The lie sounded exactly that on her lips. Even if he didn’t already know the truth, he would  _ know _ she was blatantly lying to him.

“That sounds like bullshit.” 

She shrugged, “well it’s the truth.”

They glared at each other. 

Mickey didn’t want to back down, but it looked like Mandy was actually keeping this secret.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” she finally demanded.

Those seemed to be the magic words to jerk Mickey out of his reverie of getting her to admit that Ian was - was not straight.

“I don’t,” he gripped out.

She smirked suddenly and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you do. Do you--”

“Fuck you, Mandy.” Mickey was already turning around and leaving her room. He ignored the blazing blue eyes of his sister’s on him as he slammed the door shut behind him.

He scowled to himself and then decided to go out and buy a pack of smokes from the Kash N Grab. He ignored the fact that there were at least two other places to buy cigarettes that were closer to his home. 

* * *

Entering the Kash N Grab, Mickey watched as Ian Gallagher bolted from the seat at the register and prepared to run toward the back room.

The one that definitely didn’t have a back door to the alleyway.

Fuck the Kash N Grab.

He yelled out, “not here for you, Gallagher.”

Slowly, the dopey faced motherfucker made his way back to his seat.

The store was empty besides for the two of them and that gave Mickey more courage than he’d had while walking over here.

It wasn’t like he’d been thinking of what he could say to Gallagher, but he had been curious to know what he’d do once he saw him. If he came up with a few scenarios that replayed in his head, it was just cause he was bored.

“Give me a pack of smokes. Marlboro Reds,” Mickey said nodding toward the cigarettes behind him.

Ian stared at him and made no effort to grab the cigarettes behind him. Mickey let out a frustrated sound when a minute ticked by and then another. All he did was watch him. Those big green eyes trained right on him. 

It made Mickey’s palms itch.

“Don’t got all day, Gallagher.”

“You’re not here to beat the shit out of me?” Ian asked bluntly.

Mickey smirked and itched his eyebrow with his thumb. “You want me too?”

Ian’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch then shook his head, “no.”

Mickey nodded, “good.”

Slowly, Ian turned his back on Mickey and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Mickey kept his eyes on him as he began to ring him up.

“Mandy told us you guys are dating now,” Mickey said hesitantly.

Ian glanced at him and began to fidget with the receipt he was holding. “Yeah, I guess.”

Mickey continued to watch him, waiting for him to add more. But all he did was stare back at Mickey.

“Didn’t know you were into her,” Mickey choked out finally.

Ian shrugged and then looked almost apologetic, “I mean, she’s beautiful.”

He sounded so sincere that Mickey was momentarily taken aback by the statement. 

_ Was Ian gay? Or was he something else entirely? Or were they both playing some game to protect him in this neighborhood? _

Mickey wanted to know.

But he wasn’t sure  _ why _ he wanted to know so  _ badly _ .

“Yeah, I guess.”

They stood there quietly, both looking at each other. Gallagher’s hands were still on the lighter and the pack of cigarettes. When Mickey looked down, he realized that he hadn’t even asked for the lighter.

“How’s it going working here?” 

Ian shrugged and seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking as he slid the pack and lighter across the counter from him. “It’s okay.”

Mickey threw a $10 at him and grabbed the cigarettes. He tapped the pack on the counter and when he looked up, Gallagher was still watching him. 

That same curiosity lighting up his face.

The fear was gone.

It made Mickey feel back on even ground again.

Smirking, he opened the pack and tossed two sticks at him before moving toward the entrance. WIth his hand on the door, he turned back around to Gallagher and widened his smirk. Making sure to raise his eyebrows a bit.

“No hard feelings?” he asked. “Especially if one day you’re going to be my brother in-law.” 

He wondered if Gallagher picked up on the mocking in his tone.

Gallagher flushed and fumbled with the cigarettes on the counter. “Yeah, no hard feelings.”

Mickey nodded and pushed the door open. The cold air was a balm on the heat that had spread across his face from the encounter with Gallagher. He ducked into an alleyway to light a cigarette and then began to walk aimlessly around the neighborhood.

He was unnaturally on edge. His mind continued to cast back to the conversation he’d overheard outside of his door. 

So Gallagher was  _ gay? _

And Mandy was pretending that they were boyfriend and girlfriend?

Or was something else going on that Mickey had yet to figure out?

It made sense.

Maybe.

And yet, Mickey found that he wanted to peel the secret open and find out what else Gallagher was hiding. 

He had a feeling that Gallagher had a lot of skeletons in his closest.

He was somewhere near his favorite abandoned building when he decided that he was going to find out what all of those secrets were.


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian's tension comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Halloween/Samhain/Day of the Dead/Weekend! Halloween is my favorite holiday, so I'm loving this week.
> 
> Anyway, here we are! The final chapter for Part One! I have to say that I wanted to end this differently, but this just fit so much better. It works really well and I'm really proud of this little fic. I hope that you guys like it too! 
> 
> Some warnings before we go ahead: there is some Islamphobic slurs (probs should've added that last chapter) and underage consensual sex (infamous 1x07 scene). If smut isn't your thing, then I just wanted to let you know it's present in this chapter (hence the rating change). 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and kudoed this story! You guys are amazing and I truly appreciate the feedback. There are more notes at the bottom (I didn't want to ruin anything!) 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Gallagher got annoyed, a slight crease would appear between his drawn together eyebrows. Those green eyes would narrow into a glare that brought a heat to Mickey’s stomach. His lips would purse as if he were debating with himself on whether or not he should say something. 

He wished he would. 

Ian would glower at Mickey, but those pink, full lips would remain closed.

Mickey could see the hesitation plain as the freckles on his face.

Usually, he could figure out if Gallagher was going to speak or not based on his eyes. If they narrowed or stayed wide and puppy-like, that was generally the clue he needed to tell if Gallagher was going to break his silence.

In those moments, Mickey would almost hold his breath to see if he would finally fucking speak. 

He always wanted him to. 

He rarely ever did. 

His goal - if he could call it that - was to get Gallagher to cross that invisible line he drew in the ground. Mickey wanted to see what would finally happen when Gallagher let out the aggression he could see looming beneath the surface.

The anger that was biding its time to rear its head.

He could see it waiting, lingering, building.

All Mickey needed to do was push him a bit more. _Then_ it would be released.

Gallagher’s aggression had come out a few times when Mickey stole from the Kash N Grab, but he could see he was holding himself back - keeping himself in check.

Mickey didn’t understand why. 

Was he that afraid of Mickey?

Was he trying to maintain his facade?

Or was it something else entirely?

What was strange to Mickey was that no matter how many times he fucked with Ian, he didn’t seem to give a shit. He almost seemed to take it in stride rather than lash out as Mickey expected.

In the very beginning, he pretended like he didn’t see Mickey stealing this Gatorade or that Snickers bar. He continued to be congenial toward him, despite the obvious looting he was doing. At first, Mickey thought that had more to do with the fact that he was _‘dating’_ Mandy.

Ian Gallagher didn’t want to ‘insult’ his _‘girlfriend’s’_ brother.

But after a few weeks of stealing more and more, he wasn’t so sure.

The thing was as much as he pushed Gallagher around and failed to get a rise out of him, it didn’t deter Mickey from going into the Kash N Grab. It just made him want to work harder.

He was attempting to peel layer after layer of Ian Gallagher away. Working to reveal a little more of Gallagher’s core.

It was intoxicating.

When Gallagher got _really_ annoyed, he would begin spewing out a bunch of words without thinking about them. He’d allow himself to - whether consciously or subconsciously - cross this imaginary line he’d set down. 

Mickey could always see that internal battle he had within himself, especially when he finally crossed that carefully drawn boundary. That line that signaled he could either pretend everything was fine or accept that he was too pissed to give a shit.

He liked this stage of their game. 

It was slowly coming out. 

Mounting each time Mickey stole from the store.

Especially when he began to toss the cashier sneers and glares.

He began to notice it when the cashier would try to say something to stop him and Gallagher would pause whatever he was doing to watch. If Mickey hadn’t glanced toward him that one time, he would’ve missed Gallagher’s fists clench.

The image had stuck with him for a long time afterward.

He wasn’t sure why...

So while he didn’t enjoy wasting his time with that scumbag, he did it just to see if he could get a response out of Gallagher.

Mickey liked when Gallagher finally gave him something to work with. He liked seeing his aggression rise to the occasion. 

He liked seeing him break away from his quiet, sensitive self. 

The Ian Gallagher that hid behind his older brother would disappear and he’d show his true colors.

Colors that Mickey wanted to see more of.

He liked the snarky side of Gallagher - he’d seen in when he’d talk to Mandy.

He liked hearing his little quips and sarcasm that made Mickey wonder what was going on in that head of his.

He was intrigued every time Gallagher broke away from his carefully crafted mold. Watching him fight back was like watching the underdog finally win in one of those fucking feel good movies.

It was inspiring, warm, light-hearted. 

He could see Gallagher coming out little by little every time he went into the Kash N Grab.

It had started off with nervous glances directed at him and they had slowly morphed to frustrated glares. But Gallagher had yet to say anything to him, especially in front of his boss who seemed like such a pussy for not even bothering to stick up for himself. 

Mickey remembered once when Pops had come home from the store and was muttering about beating the shit out of the guy for asking him to pay. Mickey had felt bad for most people who got in Pops’ way, but after seeing how little the cashier cared, he thought he deserved it.

Now, he just avoided looking at Mickey all together.

Kash N Grab’s eyes would dart all over the store to avoid having to call Mickey out.

It was almost sad how fucking pathetic the guy was.

And Gallagher, rather than say anything, looked at him from wherever he was in the store and loitered somewhere between annoyed and _really_ annoyed.

Like he needed fucking permission to lash out at Mickey.

And Mickey was waiting for Gallagher to cross that boundary he’d set for himself.

To finally get angry.

He had yet to really see that.

And he was _impatient_.

He was blatantly stealing from the store Gallagher worked in - right under his nose - and yet, Gallagher’s only reaction was a glower, clenched fists, and a furrowed brow. 

He thought that stealing would cause Gallagher’s panties to get all in a twist.

And it did.

Sometimes.

When the cashier was around.

It had been a few weeks since Ian and Mandy had started _‘dating_.’ Mickey wasn’t counting or anything, but he did see Ian come over a few times to the house. He had more important things to worry about like Pops getting out of prison and Iggy finally being home. 

It wasn’t like he hung out in the living room while they were in the kitchen or vice versa. If he just so _happened_ to be in the kitchen while they were playing video games - Gallagher sucked - it was just a coincidence. If sometimes he wanted to join them while playing video games, then it was only because he was bored and tired of sitting in his room.

“You suck at this,” Mickey had said when it was just him and Gallagher playing Grand Theft Auto one day.

Mandy was in her room on the phone. She’d been in there for awhile, so Mickey figured he would take over playing till she got back. He didn’t have anything to do anyway. 

Gallagher looked over at him with that little glare, those green eyes alight with fire, and his lips pursed as he seemed to debate with himself if he should say anything.

“I don’t have as much practice as you,” he finally muttered.

Mickey saw him glance over out of the corner of his eye, as if waiting for a reaction. He snorted and Gallagher’s eyes widened slightly.

Like he was surprised he got Mickey to smile.

“That a dig at my savvy street skills or playing too many video games?”

Ian chuckled, “both I guess.”

Mickey shot the target and the level ended. He looked over at Gallagher who was watching him. His lips were slightly curled upwards. Mickey couldn’t decide if he wanted to piss him off a little or keep him smiling like that.

Instead of responding, Mickey got up, stretched, and asked if he wanted a beer.

“Yeah sure,” Gallagher called back.

Mickey headed into the kitchen and came back out with two cans. He tossed one to Gallagher, who caught it and popped the tab. Mickey watched him before he opened his own beer and took a long sip. He settled back on the couch with him and picked up the controller for another game.

“Why do you keep stealing from the store?” Gallagher asked suddenly.

Mickey looked over at him with raised eyebrows. He was sipping on his beer and giving him a measured look.

“Why not?” Mickey asked.

“I mean Linda--”

“What do I owe that towelhead?” Mickey interrupted.

Gallagher frowned, “Kash isn’t a bad guy.”

Mickey felt an irrational bubble of frustration begin to form in his stomach as he heard Gallagher stand up for the owner of the store. This was just another clue in the mystery of Ian Gallagher that he was putting together.

He’d been forming a theory for awhile that Gallagher was fucking the towelhead, especially after he’d come in the store to find the two smiling at one another yesterday.

There was mounting evidence to prove this point; Gallagher’s anger, the lingering looks, his fists clenching, _the_ _fucking shared_ _smile_. 

Mickey swallowed down his irritation as the memory materialized in his mind. Yeah, he was 90 percent sure they were fucking.

He took another sip of beer to chase away the sour taste in his mouth.

“So what made you really want to start dating Mandy? Never seen you hanging around girls before,” Mickey snapped back. He wanted to look at Ian’s face when he asked, but he took out his pack of cigarettes instead. He wasn’t sure if he _actually_ wanted to see Ian’s face, so he figured it would be easier to just _not._

He heard his sharp intake of breath and then his long, pale fingers were reaching forward in a silent question to pass a cigarette over.

“So another round?” he asked when Mickey handed him one.

He nodded and lit his cigarette. The rest of the afternoon they stayed silent, only the sounds of gunfire filled the room until Mandy came back.

* * *

Mickey made sure not to be around Ian alone again. 

At least in his house.

At the Kash N Grab, it felt safer somehow to mess with him. There, they were in an environment where Mickey knew nothing would come of it. If he pushed Gallagher to his breaking point, the worst thing he’d do was yell at him. Mickey wouldn’t do anything in public. It was a safety net of sorts.

One he wanted to keep in place.

 _Right_?

A week later - per usual - Mickey waited for the white woman to leave before he headed into the store. He had expected to see the cashier there, sitting behind the register as usual for a Tuesday afternoon. But instead all he saw was Gallagher.

The dopey smile was gone, but he still looked soft and demure. Mickey only hesitated for a fraction of a second before he headed into the back and grabbed a six pack of beer and some Pringles. 

A restlessness was settling in his joints as he walked down the aisles.

Once he grabbed his Pringles, he headed down the candy aisle and grabbed a Snickers before going toward the door.

“Mickey,” Gallagher called out.

Mickey glanced over his shoulder at him. His eyebrow cocked. He was ready to figure out what level of annoyed Gallagher was at. He watched as Gallagher’s brow furrowed, his eyes glared, and then he hesitated.

So he was only annoyed.

A sinking sensation occurred in his stomach.

Mickey smirked suddenly, “gotta problem, Firecrotch?”

That seemed to make Gallagher come back to himself as he stood up a little straighter and began to walk around the counter.

“You can’t keep doing this. You need to pay for those.”

Mickey shrugged and looked down at the beer, Pringles, and three Snickers bars he’d stuffed into his pocket.

“And what am I doing?” Mickey countered.

Gallagher paled a little, “you know what you’re doing. Kash and Linda--”

“Does it look like I give a fuck? What are you going to do about it?” Mickey snapped, trying to keep the glee out of his tone.

Gallagher frowned and took a few steps closer to Mickey. For a moment, Mickey thought he was going to reach out and grab the six pack but instead, he moved to stand in front of him to block his path.

“Make sure that you don’t keep doing this,” Gallagher said, crossing his arms and glaring at him.

Mickey bit his lip to keep the smile he knew was threatening to overcome his features. He looked down, just to make sure that Gallagher didn’t see the ghost of a grin. Instead, he shifted the beer and the Pringles to one arm and snaked one of the Snickers out of his pocket. 

“Tell you what, Firecrotch,” Mickey began and slid the Snickers into the pocket of Ian’s hoodie. “You do what you gotta do and I’ll just--” he kneed Gallagher in the stomach, causing him to lose his breath and double over in pain. “Work around you,” he finished.

He listened to him wheeze until he knew that he wasn’t that badly hurt and then he left the store. 

The next time he encountered Ian Gallagher he wondered if he would finally show him some of that fury he knew he was holding inside. He was dying to see if he could make his face get as red as his hair. 

* * *

As it turned out, Mickey _couldn’t_ get Ian Gallagher to turn as red as his hair. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get him to lash out at him. All he did was hesitate, glare, and try to stop him. But he never crossed that boundary of anger that Mickey wanted to see. He couldn’t push him far enough. 

Not just by messing _with him_.

No, he had to involve the cashier - _fucking Kash_.

After the Mandy situation, Mickey had figured that Gallagher was afraid of him, he learned that wasn’t exactly the case once he added the cashier to the mix. 

Now, when he went into the Kash N Grab, he made sure to always cast a mocking, sneer at the cashier, knowing that it was that button he had to push to rile Gallagher up. On this particular day, he made sure to cast a mocking grin at Kash after grabbing a box for his stolen goods.

And then Gallagher surprised him.

He came after him.

Something that had never happened before.

It seemed that he’d found Gallagher’s weakness and Mickey wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

(Correction, he wasn’t _willing_ to figure out how he felt about it.)

“Hey Mickey! Why don’t you steal from a neighborhood you don’t live in? Have some civic pride, huh?” Ian yelled out as if he thought Mickey gave a shit about something like that.

Maybe he should’ve cared about that, but Mickey was feeling all too gleeful at the fact that he _finally_ got Gallagher riled up.

He smirked, picked up the dip that he hadn’t even really wanted, and tossed it toward the towelhead and Firecrotch.

He made sure to miss.

Turning away as it splattered across the door of the store, he swallowed down the odd flutterings in his stomach. 

“You know where I live if you gotta problem,” he taunted, licking the remains of the dip off his fingers. 

A smirk came to his lips as he headed toward the L.

He could hear Gallagher muttering, ‘Jesus. Fuck’ under his breathe.

It made Mickey’s belly tighten in warmth as he finally realized how he was going to push Gallagher over the edge.

The next time he came into the Kash N Grab he was momentarily annoyed Gallagher wasn’t there. 

And then he saw an opportunity. 

He’d already surmised that Gallagher was having a secret rendezvous with the store owner and while he didn’t care much about Mickey threatening him, he _did_ care when the perv got involved.

Mickey was always assumed to be an idiot - by his teachers, his father, his probation officer - but if it was locating people’s weaknesses and reading them, he’d always been quite attuned to what was going on under other people’s noses.

It was a trait he’d picked up when he needed to read his father’s moods to determine if he should stay out of his way. Or when his mother told him to cry on command so they could catch a break - whether that meant with a social worker, a too curious teacher, or even cashiers when they couldn’t cover the amount owed.

Mickey thought everyone had to be an idiot to miss what was going on between the underage boy and the middle aged store owner.

But he caught it.

And it caused his blood to boil at how this middle aged man was preying on a teenager. 

That’s what he focused on as he looked down the barrel of the gun in Kash N Grab’s hand.

Kash stood before him holding a shaking Glock; his eyes directed to the space above Mickey’s head.

“Put the soup back, Mickey Milkovich,” Kash demanded.

Mickey stared at him, his hands full of salt, Pringles, and a few cans of soup. His eyes were trained on the gun in Kash’s shaking hands. He knew without even having to look at Kash N Grab’s face that he wasn’t going to shoot him. Not over a can of soup and some salt.

Maybe the Pringles.

He’d stolen a lot of them.

Mickey had come in, thinking Gallagher would be working today, but instead he got the owner. So of course when Kash pulled the gun on him, he had to take it. 

_This was his opportunity._

What he’d been waiting weeks to do.

Mickey had come to realize that no matter how many times he threatened and glared and mocked Gallagher, it was when he turned his annoyance and anger toward the owner did he finally get a reaction.

He had no regard for his own safety, but he was intent on sticking up for other people.

Namely a middle aged pervert who was taking advantage of him.

And he wanted to teach the creep a fucking lesson.

The whole situation made Mickey’s stomach hurt.

“You gonna shoot me over a can of fucking soup, Kash N Grab?” Mickey mocked.

Kash’s hand shook, causing the gun to wobble.

Carefully setting down the items, Mickey held his empty hands up to show Kash.

“There,” Mickey said. A false smile settling on his lips.

It was Kash’s mistake to let down his guard - that’s when Mickey lunged. He grabbed the gun, careful to make sure that the safety was on and then aimed a punch to the perv’s face. A splitting pain shot up his fist at the contact, but he ignored it. Flipping the gun around so the handle was facing up, Mickey slapped it across Kash’s face twice before pushing him so he stumbled and hit the wall behind him, hard.

Dozens of cigarettes and cigarillos fell with him and Mickey grinned, a taunt lingering on his lips.

“Don’t fucking do that again, pedo,” Mickey said double checking the gun’s safety to make sure it was on before putting it in his pants. He gathered up his items, flipped off Kash, and headed out the door, back to his house.

He felt good about what he’d done. 

And he knew that if this didn’t rile Ian Gallagher up, then nothing would.

The only thing on his mind was ‘ _what would Ian Gallagher do now?_ ’ 

* * *

Mickey wasn’t exactly happy that Pops was out of prison, but Iggy and him went down with Uncle Ronnie to get him out anyway. Uncle Ronnie kept telling him that it would be good if he came, so he dragged Iggy along with him.

When he came home, Pops had immediately requested a party and started calling up some of his ‘friends.’ Ignoring his loud laughter, Mickey went to his room to find Mandy in there.

“The fuck you doing?” he asked, scowling at her.

She looked guilty for a moment before she righted herself.

“Nothing.”

She placed a gun magazine back on his dresser and took a step back, waiting for him to say or do something.

“Don’t look like nothing. Why you in here?” he asked, beginning to feel panicky about her finding the magazine he’d stolen from her so long ago. It was safely hidden between his bed and the wall, tucked away with his lube, but if she was snooping...

She looked down and then hesitantly back up, a scowl that matched his own clearly on her face.

“Fuck off,” she said and then moved to leave the room. 

He grabbed her arm and she struggled to shake him off. She moved to smack him, but he caught her wrist. Pushing her back so her legs knocked against the back of his couch, she plopped down onto it and scoffed, glaring up at him.

“What are you fucking doing in here?” he asked again.

Her blue eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms.

“You said you’d stop messing with Ian,” she said finally.

He stared at her blankly. Then the hidden gun in his dresser came to mind. He laughed once and moved around his room toward the bed. They could already hear people coming through the front door for Pop’s coming home party.

“Never said anything like that,” he said, grabbing his weed on the bedside table and beginning to roll a joint. If he was going to get through tonight, he was going to need something for it.

“He said you stole his gun,” she said walking over toward him.

He bit the inside of his cheek and focused on packing the weed into the rolling paper. “How’d you know that? You two talking about me?” he asked. 

His heart was beating rapidly as the words escaped his lips.

Mandy scoffed, “as if. He came over earlier.”

Mickey’s head shot up and looked at her. He knew he didn’t hide his surprise very well because she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Stop messing with him, Mickey,” she said, this time sounding more exhausted than angry.

Mickey ducked his head and bit his lip to keep the smirk from coming across his lips.

“I’m not doing shit. I just go into the Kash N Grab--”

“And steal shit.”

“So? Not my fault it’s so easy--”

“His boss and the wife are getting really upset about it. Ian told me that the wife keeps threatening the boss and--”

“And how’s that any of my fault?”

Mandy gave him an unimpressed look.

He shrugged and began to consider what she’d just said. So that’s why Gallagher was suddenly speaking up and trying to get him to stop. His - fucking whatever - was being hounded by his wife and he wanted to jump in and save the day.

_Fucking typical._

Mickey scoffed and finished rolling the joint. He lit it and passed it to Mandy.

“He find the gun?” he asked.

He already knew he wouldn’t. 

Mandy shook her head and inhaled deeply.

They sat in silence passing the joint back and forth and listening to the noises getting louder and louder outside the room.

“I’m going out for the night,” she stated quietly.

He nodded, “probably best.”

They finished the joint and Mickey watched as Mandy got ready to leave. He didn’t ask her where she was going, but he wished he could go with her. 

* * *

The first thing Mickey registered through the dull pain in his head was that someone was in his room. He had drank too much the night before (fuck Terry’s ‘friends’) and he had no desire to deal with whomever was trying to quietly sneak through his room.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared for whatever weird fuck was trying to - steal from him? Fuck with him? Mickey didn’t care, whoever it was could plan on an early funeral.

He heard the door open thanks to his sleeping habits. He hadn’t been able to sleep through the night in years - not since his mother had died - and it only got worse as he got older. Terry habitually came banging in through the house, ready to take on anyone who got in his way. Mickey would be surprised if anyone got any sleep at all. But it was another one of those topics they never talked about.

It was just easier being aware, even in the middle of the night. He didn’t want to be caught off guard. So if he didn’t sleep as much as other people, then so be it.

He’d rather be a little tired than dead cause he fucked up and was sleeping too deeply.

He stayed frozen, pretending he was asleep as the person shuffled deeper into his room. He heard them stop and then something hard poked his back. 

Something hard and cold.

 _Metal_.

_Was it a gun?_

He swallowed thickly. Images of his father beginning to swirl around his head at what he was planning for him now. 

The last time he’d seen Terry was when he was passed out on the couch while some hooker gave him a lap dance. Mickey had slinked back to his room as early as he could get away with and drank himself into a black out to try and sleep through the night. 

Mickey figured Terry would stay asleep for awhile, but evidently he was wrong if he was waking him up with a gun.

But his father tended to be louder...

Slowly, he began to open his eyes as the prodding continued. Rolling over, he blinked a few times as the person in front of him registered.

The first thing he saw was Ian Gallagher’s wide green eyes and bright red hair. He blinked a few more times as he tried to comprehend who he was seeing in his bedroom.

_The fuck?_

“Gallagher?” he rasped out. 

Was he still dreaming?

He began to rub his eyes, but Gallagher continued to stay in front of him. Evidently, it was not a dream, but that didn’t explain why the redhead was standing in front of him holding what looked like a crowbar or a tire iron - he couldn’t tell from his position.

He heard Gallagher ask for the gun back and he almost smiled at the request. He vaguely was aware of himself holding his hands up, mumbling a response, and pretending to go for the drawer.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be more impressed or annoyed with Gallagher for waking him up. Never in a million years had he thought _Gallagher_ would come into his house in the early hours of the morning to ask for a gun that didn’t even belong to him.

He’d underestimated him.

Maybe Gallagher wasn’t as afraid of him as he’d thought.

Maybe he’d been right about him the entire time.

A weird warm bubbling began in his belly as he realized the serious glare that rested on Gallagher’s face. But Mickey wasn’t fooled enough to think that he wasn’t scared too. The combination gave him a rush as he made up his mind.

He jumped on top of Gallagher. 

He didn’t allow himself to think too much about it. 

But now that he had gotten Gallagher all riled up, he wanted to see what else he was holding back. 

Mickey didn’t realize how much glee he felt knowing that Ian Gallagher had stood up to him until he found himself being thrown across the room by him. While he could still see the fear, he wasn’t running from him.

And that enticed Mickey.

He got in a couple good shots before he was knocked onto his couch and Gallagher went for the metal piece he’d brought with him - a tire iron, he realized. He tried to grab the tire iron from him, but Gallagher flipped him onto his back. 

Mickey hugged his body against his to get him to stop moving, but Gallagher slithered away. Mickey was faster though as he threw him onto the bed. They tousled and then Mickey found himself on top of him. His legs were on either side of his neck, keeping him pinned to the bed. The tire iron was in his hand and he raised it above him, no plan of actually bringing it down and hitting him. 

He hesitated as he tried to determine what to do next. But in that moment, he found Gallagher’s eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut in preparation for the hit. Those green eyes locked on Mickey’s and - as fucking cliche as it sounds - time stopped. 

He could barely hear their heavy breathing from wrestling with each other. He couldn’t hear his father’s distinct snores. He couldn’t even feel how cold his room was from the lack of heating in the house.

Instead, all he saw were Gallagher’s green eyes resting on him. 

Realization was sinking in to them, especially with Mickey’s dick in his face.

And then he broke the spell and glanced down to take note of the hard on that was rapidly growing in his pants.

He saw Gallagher’s eyes widen, look up, and then back down toward his dick.

Mickey knew he should probably feel embarrassed by the evidence of something he tried so hard not to think about. But the look of astonishment and then lust that settled on Gallagher’s face made Mickey feel like this was exactly where he wanted to be. 

For a moment, a drop of anxiety sifted through his own building lust at how Gallagher could fuck him over if he gave in. How he could tell everyone what he really was.

He should end all of this now and just bash Gallagher’s face in.

But that was the furthest thing he wanted to do.

Instead, he wanted to give in.

Just this once. 

He could go with it - he really wanted to - and then he could pretend it never happened.

He shifted his weight off of him the same time that Gallagher began to take off his clothes. Mickey was faster at getting his shirt off since he didn’t have winter clothes on like Gallagher and then without thinking too much about what he was doing, he began to help _Ian Gallagher_ take off his shirt. 

He fumbled with the item until it was off and then he moved to take his own pants off, Gallagher assisting him with them. The idea of being naked in front of another boy, especially one who could see the evidence of his attraction plain as day, caused his heartbeat to race. 

Once his pants were off, he reached for Gallagher who was still partially clothed. 

And then they were naked.

He peeked at Gallagher’s body. His eyes zeroing in on those nine inches that he knew were going to be filling him up within the next few minutes. He swallowed thickly at the idea of being stretched so pleasurably by that giant cock. An overwhelming need to stroke him or take him into his mouth made Mickey feel hot all over.

Instead, he laid across the mattress and pulled Gallagher on top of him. Gallagher’s skin was hot and soft against his own. He shuttered at the contact and he wondered if Gallagher felt the same way he did. 

He hoped so. 

Those nine inches of hardness pressed against his inner thighs and he bit his lip. Afraid that he’d make a sound at how _good_ it felt to be in this position. He didn’t want to give away how inexperienced and enthusiastic he was about doing this.

He ducked his head into the crock of Gallagher’s neck and enveloped his arms around him to bring him closer. He wrapped his legs around Gallagher’s waist and ground up to create some friction. He needed to find some relief to release the pressure that was building inside of him. The movement caused their cocks to rub together. 

Mickey could taste blood in his mouth from biting his lip so hard to make sure he didn’t let any sounds loose.

“You, uh, got any lube?” 

Gallagher’s voice sounded raspy when he asked. Mickey hoped that was a good sign. Whenever he’d been with girls all they did was giggle and moan too loudly. 

It was fucking annoying.

But Ian Gallagher wasn’t like that. 

He sounded as if he was struggling to stay in control of himself. It brought an intense heat to his lower belly and he brought his body closer to his own, wishing for a split second that he had the gumption to lean in and kiss him.

But he didn’t want to give away too much of himself to Gallagher.

_This was just a way to let out some frustration._

_That was it._

_Just a warm mouth._

He glanced up to see him staring down at him. He felt his face flush, but he ignored it as he twisted around and dipped his hand where he kept his stash of lube. He tossed the bottle onto the bed and watched as Gallagher squirted some onto his fingers. Once he was finished, he looked back at Mickey and some of the hurry that they’d had in the beginning faded away.

Now he looked hesitant as if reality was settling in.

Mickey didn’t like that.

“What are you fucking waiting for?” Mickey gripped.

He wasn’t sure how long they had before his fucking family began to wake up.

“Fucking hurry up,” Mickey snapped when Gallagher just looked at him.

He seemed to snap out of it and slowly - much too slowly - moved his hand downward and tentatively pressed his index finger to his hole. Mickey bit his lip hard to keep any noises in check. He closed his eyes as Gallagher’s finger began to move, opening him up wider and wider.

Mickey was semi-aware of the low breathy noises that were escaping his lips. Choosing to ignore it, he was too caught up in taking the pleasure that Gallagher was giving. 

All too soon, he was removing his fingers. When he looked up, he found Gallagher aligning himself up with his entrance. That nine-inch cock, thick, slick and red, ready to expand and fill him.

Their eyes met for a heated moment and then Mickey was grabbing Gallagher’s ass and squeezing in a silent plea for him to move. He took the cue and then he was pushing himself into Mickey, inch-by-inch until he completely bottomed out. 

Mickey took a breath in and let it out as he became used to the unfamiliar fullness, but once Gallagher began to move and stretch him, it felt delicious.

_Fucking sinful._

It was the right amount of fullness, pleasure, and burning pain that he didn’t realize he needed. The cocoon of gratification wrapped around him as Gallagher moved his hips quicker, finding the rhythm that suited both of them.

Vaguely aware of Gallagher’s little moaning noises, Mickey felt the urge to kiss him again and swallow down those tantalizing sounds. Instead, he hid his face in his neck. Only barely registering Gallagher taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

With his other hand, he gripped Gallagher’s ass, kneading the pale flesh. He could feel his orgasm building more and more. Threatening to topple with just the right touch. Gallagher’s little noises traveled from his ears down his spine to tingle in his toes. He maneuvered his hips upward slightly and the angle caused Mickey’s vision to begin to darken. Gallagher was hitting him just right. 

_Was all sex with guys like this?_

Mickey didn’t think so.

He had a feeling that this was a fucking anomaly.

Gallagher knew what he was doing.

He wanted to do this forever - stay like this for eternity.

Their slicked sweaty bodies rubbed together, creating friction on Mickey’s hard cock.

He knew he was going to come soon, but he wanted to hold--

And then Gallagher was gripping his cock with the hand he’d been holding Mickey’s with and suddenly he was falling over the edge.

Warm cum squirted from him and covered their stomachs, creating a mess that neither of them cared about.

He was just barely away of Gallagher coming too and the warm liquid filling him up.

And then he was pushing him off - suddenly it all felt as if they were too close - and then they were burrowing under his crimson blankets. He wiped the cum off with a discarded piece of clothing and made sure to avoid Gallagher’s green eyes. 

* * *

Seeing his father stomping through his room right after he let Gallagher stick his dick up his ass made that sickening twist in his stomach come back. For one brief moment, he had felt light and calm. And then the bedroom door opened and they froze as Terry headed into the bathroom. 

As the bedroom door closed, Mickey shoved Gallagher out of bed. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and hurriedly put them on.

“That was close.”

He heard Gallagher mutter, but he didn’t respond. He was looking for his shirt that had somehow ended up on his couch. Gallagher was busy looking for something and Mickey took the opportunity to watch him. He was holding a pair of boxers to his dick and his white ass was in the air - how many freckles were on this guy? - as he searched for whatever it was he was looking for.

Mickey bet it was his pants.

He wanted to tell him that he had a good time. He wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t mind doing it again. He wanted to tell him that it was his first real time with a guy - not just getting sucked off in a dirty juvie bathroom.

A dick joke was on the tip of his tongue, but when Gallagher looked up at him to say something, Mickey turned away and went straight to the bathroom on the pretense that he needed to clean up.

Would Gallagher just leave while he was in the bathroom?

Mickey wanted him to.

Maybe.

And yet, maybe he didn’t.

When he left the bathroom, Gallagher was almost dressed minus a shirt that was in his hand. He rubbed his bottom lip, bit it, and then went into his dresser.

He tossed the gun on the bed without a word, rubbed at his bottom lip again and looked at Gallagher. He wasn’t sure what he wanted him to do, but his sudden move to lean in to kiss him hadn’t been what he was expecting.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” 

The words left him more out of fear than a desire to actually do it. He didn’t want Gallagher to kiss him. 

_Right?_

And yet...

_Would those full lips be soft?_

_Would it be a hesitant kiss?_

_Would he give it his all?_

_Would he be surprised that I wanted to do it again?_

Maybe a tiny part of him wanted to know what he tasted like, but that didn’t mean anything. 

Wasn’t like this defined him.

But still…

Mickey was intrigued.

Turning away, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes. He didn’t want to watch Gallagher leave. He’d rather go out and smoke a cigarette and then eat the eggs Mandy was supposedly making. He didn’t say bye or ask if this was a one time thing. He didn’t want to know.

He headed toward the porch and left Gallagher alone in his room. Pulling out a cigarette, he couldn’t help but rewind the last hour of his life as he replayed what had just happened.

The way Gallagher’s hands felt on his skin.

How he manhandled him to get him right where he wanted.

Those green eyes darkened with lust.

_The fucking feel of him..._

Lighting the cigarette, he blew out a long puff of smoke and watched as it disintegrated into the air. 

Taking stock of his body, of himself, he waited for that familiar disgust to come over him.

The disgust that always came after he had sex.

It wasn’t like when he slept with girls.

He didn’t feel empty like he had in the past.

This time he felt clean, full. Like he was a new person.

He couldn’t ignore the lightness that he felt.

How fucking _right_ everything seemed.

_Was this what it felt like to finally get something he wanted?_

It was strange.

Was this _normal_?

Taking another drag on his cigarette, he looked out toward the street and watched the cars drive by. He didn’t want to think about Gallagher, but red hair, freckles, and that dopey fucking grin filled his mind.

And now a familiar warmth spread in his belly at the idea of what Ian Gallagher could bring to his life. The possibilities he could offer Mickey. 

“Mickey, come eat,” Mandy called from the kitchen.

Mickey followed her voice and sat down next to Pops who was wolfing down the breakfast Mandy had made. 

Mickey told himself to act _normal_ . Like he hadn’t just fucked a - like he hadn’t just _done that with his family feet away._

He found that it was easier to do now than it had ever been.

Strange, he figured it would be the opposite.

He saw a flash of red hair coming out of his room and before he knew it, Ian Gallagher was gone.

At least for now.

Mickey had a feeling he’d be seeing him again real soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to those of you who read this short story! Please comment if you'd like.
> 
> Also, just an update for the next part and when to expect that. I'm in the middle of writing a one shot for Halloween (it takes place in the Never Tear Us Apart universe (can you call this a universe? it's just post season 11)) I'm hoping to have it up Saturday, but we'll see. It might be a few days late. 
> 
> As for part 2, it'll probably be more like next weekend or even slightly after, but it's coming. I have it all outlined and I'm excited to dive back into Ian's POV. As mentioned, Part 2 is all in Ian's POV and takes place from 1x03 to 1x09, so stay tuned for that! It'll be called Chocolate. 
> 
> Lastly, Part 2 will NOT have Ian's POV of the 1x07 sex scene, but if you really want his POV, then I encourage you to check out chapter 1 of The Evolution Of Kissing. I already wrote Ian's POV of that scene, so I didn't want to write it again. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks again SO MUCH for reading, you guys are the best! See you soon!


End file.
